


Show and Tell

by project_ecto



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys Going Through Problems and Overcoming Them Together, Feels, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hearing Impaired!Midorima, Hearing disability, Inspired by a BL Manga, M/M, Oblivious!Takao, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7749454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/project_ecto/pseuds/project_ecto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima Shintarou, a medical student in university, suffers from hearing impairment. He has long stopped trying to ask people to repeat themselves, or strain his ears to hear what they say. Closing himself off to the world, he resigns to his fate of belonging in a dark place. Until he meets Takao Kazunari, who shows him that life doesn’t have to be muted, and whose voice rings clear in his ears. Inspired by Hidamari ga Kikoeru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone it's me again, project_ecto. I'm here with another AU featuring our favourite boys in university! This time it's Midorima with hearing impairment and Takao has his own challenges too. It's inspired by a BL manga, Hidamari ga Kikoeru. Honestly, it's my first time reading a BL and I must say, I recommend it for first-time readers who don't want to go into too NSFW type of BL. It's super cute and fluffly and the only reason why I read it is because the main characters resemble Makoto (from Free!) and Takao lol. Well then, I hope you guys will enjoy this!

“Sorry, we don’t hire high school students,” the store manager tells Takao bluntly.

“I’m not a high school student!” Takao makes sure to point out loudly. “I’m already in university!”

The store manager leans away from the raven-haired boy, putting some distance between them to protect his ears.

“Sorry, we don’t hire boys,” he adds plainly.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a discriminatory practice,” Takao says and narrows his eyes at the man.

“Look,” he snaps and finally drops the boxes he was transporting to face Takao. “I don’t want to hire someone as… _jumpy_ as you. We only have the night shift open and I’m not going to have you making a ruckus every night. I’ve already got three tiring kids at home and I don’t need the same where I work.”

With a huff, he cracks his back picking the boxes up and carries them into the store, not sparing Takao a second glance.

Takao stares dejectedly at his retreating back and thinks to himself, “I can be quiet…”

He decides not to let it get him down and briskly walks down the street, trying his luck with every “Help Wanted” poster pinned up in front of the stores. But after numerous blunt refusals and some sympathetic ‘no’s, Takao calls it a day, telling himself that’s enough rejection for a whole morning. Besides, he needs to get to school for his afternoon classes.

Takao trudges to school, not so much because of all the rejection, but more so of the hunger assaulting him. Spending all morning hunting for a job really took its toll on one. He had no money to buy lunch, which will be the third day that happened in a row. It really sucks to be poor. Takao’s so hungry he won’t be surprised if his stomach concaves.

With an endurance perfected over the years, Takao manages to make it to school without collapsing. As if his stomach was displeased at the abuse it’s been through, it grumbles loudly and forces Takao to wrap his arms around his waist, muffling the sound even though there’s no one in the vicinity to witness his pitiful situation. Sighing, Takao leans against the railings for a little rest to find his dignity before continuing on his bleak way.

Right now, life is serving Takao lemons. And they are very sour.

The moment his butt meets the railings, it unhinges and sends gravity acting cruelly on Takao. With a yelp, he finds himself falling backwards and rolling ungracefully down the grassy hill, head spinning and mouth spewing an elongated curse word. The world finally stops spinning madly when he lands on his back with his feet sticking up.

“Ow ow ow ow…”

He whines and presses a palm to his head, steadying himself. He rolls onto his side and when his eyes stop seeing two of everything, Takao is met with eyes as green as the hill he rolled down.

“Uhh…” he starts, at a loss of what to say because he probably looked incredibly stupid falling so unceremoniously and interrupting someone’s quiet lunch.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” he manages lamely.

But the other boy doesn’t say a word, only stares back at him in surprise, because what else can you feel when you get company in such unexpected ways. Company that is also unwelcome. He stands up abruptly and for a moment, Takao thought he was going to help him up, but the boy, whose hair was coloured a pleasing shade of green (but not as green as his eyes), picks up what seems to be a frog statue and stalks off without a word.

Takao blinks in bewilderment at the boy’s strange reaction to his entrance. He didn’t have to leave so quickly like Takao was some sort of dangerous individual.

“Well that was unhelpful,” Takao thinks to himself, gaze lingering on his back (he was tall, so very tall) until he realized he should probably pick himself up.

The university student brushes the dirt away from his clothes and picks as many leaves out of his hair, trying not to think about how unfortunate the day has been, even though it was only in the afternoon. Deeming himself presentable, he surveys the area to determine where he crash landed, but instead of pinpointing his location on campus, he spots a bentou box.

It’s black and blends in well under the shade of the tree so he almost missed it, but his keen eyes catch the glint it makes in the sun. Curiously, he approaches the bentou box and his slate blue eyes go as wide as saucers when he realizes what’s in the box. With delightful eyes and a watering mouth, he scrambles to the heaven-sent bentou box and almost cries in elation at the variety of neatly-packed home-cooked food. And it was colourful too! Someone really knew how to make deliciously-looking and aesthetically-pleasing bentous.

Takao cradles the box in his palms and reaches for the pair of chopsticks. Finally, he can alleviate his miserable pang of hunger. He’s mere seconds from digging the chopsticks into the bentou and ruining it until the rational side of his brain stops him. This lunch box isn’t his…it belongs to the guy that he scared off. It’s not very polite to then eat his food right? In the first place, it’s not polite to eat anyone’s food without permission.

Takao’s shoulders slump and he reluctantly lowers the box. If he runs, he could catch up to the guy. But he’s almost depleted of energy, he’s tired and he’s hungry and oh, it’s just sitting there. It’ll be such a waste. He doesn’t even know where the guy ran off to, he’ll never be able to find him.

But here…God’s gift is sitting right here in his lap. So Takao makes sure it doesn’t go to waste, guilt be damned.

* * *

As expected, Takao immediately feels bad about wolfing down some stranger’s lunch and resolves to look for him the next day to apologize and return his bentou box (washed and cleaned of course). The green-haired boy (to which Takao will refer as such until he finds out his name) intrigued him, because of the way his green-eyes swam with surprise and confusion, because of the odd colour of his hair, because of the way he simply left without a word. He decides to consult his senior about it.

“Hey Miyaji-senpai,” Takao calls his senior from his communications faculty. “Do you know there’s this guy with green hair in our school?”

“Huh?” Miyaji grunts, throwing Takao a questioning look as he shoves his stuff into his bag (they share an elective class together).

“Some guy with green hair,” Takao explains again. “Tall, like really tall. With glasses.”

“Ah,” Miyaji says, realization dawning on him. “You mean Midorima Shintarou.”

“Midorima Shintarou?” Takao repeats, rolling the traditionally-sounding name on his tongue.

“Yeah, first year medical student,” Miyaji tells him. “He’s pretty well-known around here, though not for very good reasons. I’m not surprised you don’t know him, since you’re always skipping school.”

Miyaji makes sure to give Takao a reprimanding look when he says that. It’s not like he wants to mother him, but Takao’s life wasn’t exactly smooth-sailing and Miyaji just wants to look out for him. Who wouldn’t when the first-year managed to screw up his class schedule and registered for an elective usually taken by second-years?

“I was looking for a job,” Takao says defensively then remembers the topic at hand. “Wait, why is he well-known for not very good reasons?”

“He’s has uh, hearing problems,” Miyaji explains. “And I guess he’s just aloof?”

“He’s deaf?” Takao asks in surprise.

“Not deaf,” Miyaji rolls his eyes. “He suffers from hearing impairment. There’s a difference.”

“Oh.”

No wonder he didn’t even reply.

“Why’d you suddenly ask about him?” he questions. “You getting yourself into trouble again?”

“No! I just…ate his lunch,” Takao answers meekly, and decides against explaining the whole story.

Miyaji opens his mouth to demand an elaboration but closes it to his better judgment. “You know what, I don’t even want to know,” Miyaji says and then turns serious again. “Just don’t get caught up in anything unnecessary or—”

“Or you’ll run me over I know, I know,” Takao finishes for him and waves a dismissive hand in his direction.

“Don’t get cocky punk!” Miyaji barks before slinging his bag over his shoulders and ruffling Takao’s hair before leaving the lecture hall.

When Takao’s all alone in the lecture hall, he leans back into his seat and stares up at the ceiling, digesting what Miyaji told him about the strange boy.

“Midorima Shintarou huh.”

* * *

Takao takes a while trying to find the place he met Midorima and gives up when he loses his way (the campus is huge). He figures it’s much easier to get there from the same way he did yesterday. So Takao goes up to the street and carefully slides down the hill, gracefully this time, and sure enough, Midorima is sitting at the exact same spot.

“Yo!” he calls and when Midorima doesn’t turn around, he smacks himself for forgetting he can’t hear him properly.

Takao approaches him carefully, lest he leaves without a word again. He slowly inches to the front so that Midorima is only a little startled when he notices him.

“Hey,” Takao greets with a wave and his trademark smile. He digs through his bag and fishes out the black bentou box, presenting it to Midorima, who looks at him suspiciously. Closing the distance between them, Takao says, “I’m here to return your bentou box.”

He passes the box to Midorima, who accepts it warily. Expecting it to be filled with day-old food, he’s surprised to find that it’s light. As if it’s empty. Frowning, Midorima wordlessly removes the lid to find that the box is indeed empty and someone has eaten all of its contents. He glares at Takao accusingly, and the raven-haired student scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I kinda…finished everything,” he laughs nervously as he seats himself a comfortable distance from Midorima. From here, he can see the skin-coloured hearing aid nestled inconspicuously in his ear. “It’s because you left so suddenly! And I was really hungry so—ah.”

Assuming that Midorima probably can’t hear him, Takao starts to gesture. He points a finger at the box and then at his opened mouth, but before he can continue, Midorima interrupts him.

“You don’t have to gesture.”

Takao meets his eyes in surprise but Midorima doesn’t hold their gaze. In a flash, his surprise is replaced by relief.

“So you can talk normally!” he exclaims at the realization. “I thought since you couldn’t really hear…”

“I can understand what you’re saying if you speak slowly.”

Takao notices how deep his voice is.

“I see. I was saying that I finished everything. The bentou,” he starts to explain, taking note to slow the pace of his words down. “Sorry! You just left so suddenly and I was really hungry I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Takao gauges his reaction with remorseful eyes and is relieved when Midorima doesn’t seem that offended anymore. But he is still wary.

“I don’t have any money so I can’t pay you back. I hope an apology will do,” he finishes apprehensively.

“That’s a bold thing to say for someone who rudely interrupted and devoured my lunch,” Midorima answers brusquely.

“In my defence, it was an accident. The interrupting part,” Takao retorts. “But fine, I agree my actions were not ‘acceptable’.”

He admits as he packs the word in air quotes. “When I get the money, I’ll pay you back alright?”

“I don’t need your money.”

“Then what do you want?”

Takao looks at him earnestly, as if he’s dead serious about righting his wrong, which wasn’t even that much of a big deal anyway. Midorima finds himself contemplating the harmless question, because there was indeed something he wanted, needed in fact. And he needed it soon. So if fate presented him a viable candidate, who was he to refuse?

“Be my note-taker,” he says, the statement bordering on a command.

“Your what?”

“My note-taker,” Midorima repeats. “It’s someone who volunteers to take notes during classes for people like me so I’m able to get a better understanding of the class.”

Takao scrunches his nose at that. It’s not like he doesn’t want to help, but they were from different faculties and it’ll be difficult on him to attend medical classes every week just because of a stolen bentou. Noticing Takao’s hesitation, Midorima tries to think of a solution. He was in desperate need of a note-taker. The previous one had quit on him because apparently, he had been too difficult to deal with and had _too many demands_. It was ridiculous because he only had a _few_ standards when it came to note-taking. He needed one before he starts missing chunks of the classes and falls behind his work. There must be something Takao needed too…he looks down and fiddles with his bentou box.

Oh.

“I’ll give you lunches in exchange for the notes,” he suggests.

“Deal.”

Well, that was fast. Midorima pushes his glasses up his nose, proud of himself for thinking quickly and acquiring a new note-taker in such a short period of time.

“So how does this note-taking thing go?” Takao asks.

“You attend my classes, as many as our schedules allow or is reasonable, and simply take notes. You don’t have to buy any of the textbooks or materials, just listen to the professor and jot down the main points of the class,” Midorima explains.

“Sounds easy enough,” Takao quips and their conversation is abruptly punctuated by a loud growl emanating from his starved stomach.

He lets the embarrassing sound drag until it dies down before grinning nervously at Midorima, scratching his nape out of habit. The bespectacled boy rewards Takao with a look of incredulity. Was he always this hungry? Sighing, he thrusts his bentou at Takao in an uncharacteristically magnanimous act, not wanting to witness his predicament any longer.

“Really?!” Takao exclaims, eyes immediately growing wide with anticipation.

“Hurry up and take it.”

“Thank you!”

He doesn’t waste a second in appeasing his growling stomach. Midorima’s bentou was half-finished but Takao doesn’t mind. Beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, the bentou is so tasty it overshadows everything else. Takao takes huge gulps and chews happily, a blissful expression settling on his young features. Midorima watches him sceptically out of the corner of his eye, was it really that delicious?

After devouring a heavenly kaarage, Takao remembers his manners and swallows as politely as he can manage. He catches sight of a strange object by Midorima’s side, and decides to ask him about it, recalling how he saw something like that yesterday.

“Hey Midorima,” Takao says and the medical student looks up in surprise, wondering how Takao knew his name. “What’s that over there?”

“This?” he asks, setting aside the question for later. “It’s my lucky item for today. A teddy bear.”

“In karate attire?” Takao probes and when Midorima nods, he bursts out laughing. The first thing Midorima thinks is that Takao laughs very loudly, with no inhibitions, no reservations. He just lets it out in carefree guffaws, clutching at his stomach and brushing a tear from the corner of his eye.

Midorima’s first impression of Takao was never a good one. He thought people like Takao were too frivolous. He braces himself for the snarky remarks and mockery that he has constantly experienced for his lucky items. Takao will be no different.

“And what’s a lucky item?” the raven-haired boy asks in piqued interest after he collects himself.

“It’s an item that increases your luck for the day according to Oha Asa,” Midorima answers warily.

“Oha Asa?” he continues to probe.

“A morning broadcast that announces the fortunes of each horoscope for the day.”

“Oh! And a teddy bear dressed in a karate attire is the lucky item for…?”

Midorima’s eyebrows are knitted in confusion. This isn’t usually how it goes. Usually, they make fun of him and he will leave, ignoring the names they call him behind his back.

“Cancers,” he replies slowly.

“What’s my lucky item then?” Takao asks curiously.

“I don’t know. I only check the one for Cancers,” Midorima says, growing bemused by the minute. “But what is your star sign?”

“Scorpio!”

“I see. You should check your lucky item on Oha Asa if you want to know,” he advises.

“Nah, I don’t believe in that stuff,” he replies casually. “So you’re like a superstitious guy?”

Midorima frowns. “I just do everything that I can. Fate favours those who do their best.”

“Fair enough,” Takao shrugs, although he thinks it’s a little weird for a university student to still believe in that sort of stuff. A medical student no less. But to each his own right?

“You know my name,” Midorima states after a pause.

“Oh yeah, my senior told me who you were when I asked about a guy with green hair in our school,” Takao answers. “Wanted to find out whose lunch I ate you know?”

Takao’s voice was playful and Midorima stopped expecting the mockery he thought he was sure to get. The boy in front of him is not mean, nor is he insensitive, and Midorima never thought his assumptions would be broken by someone like Takao. He was frivolous and overly familiar yes, but maybe it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

“What’s your name?” Midorima asks.

“Takao Kazunari!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you guys don't forget what happened in the previous chapter haha. I'm working now but I'll try my best to update regularly!

Miraculously or coincidentally, there were few clashes between Midorima’s and Takao’s schedules and the raven-haired boy was able to attend most of the medical student’s classes.  He doesn’t attend all though, because that would double his curriculum and take up too much of his time, so Midorima has him attend the heavier classes. Note-taking’s not really hard, Takao thinks, it’s just writing down whatever the professor’s saying and he can write fast. The most challenging part was staying awake because medical school was extremely boring.

Little did he know, Midorima was trying his best to refrain from bombarding Takao with standards and guidelines and templates about the notes. He couldn’t afford to lose another note-taker, even though he had to pay for this one. Takao’s notes are slightly messy and sometimes he scribbles or doesn’t spell the biology term correctly but other than that, they were legible.

However, Takao dozes off in class way too often. By the third incidence, Midorima decides to take action.

“What is this?” Midorima questions, flipping through the notebook that contained Takao’s messy handwriting.

“They’re notes obviously!”

“It’s half-completed,” Midorima points out, displeased. “There’s nothing about the second half of the class. Again.”

“Yeah…about that,” Takao starts sheepishly. “I kind of fell asleep? Again.”

Midorima’s eyebrow twitches at his confession. He hadn’t known Takao fell asleep in the middle of class because he sat one seat in front of him and it didn’t cross his mind that he needed to check on his note-taker at regular intervals.

“That’s the one thing you’re not supposed to do as a note-taker,” Midorima deadpans. “It defeats the purpose of being one.”

“But it’s sooo boring!” Takao complains.

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, I can find another note-taker.”

He really could not. Which is why he’s settling for Takao.

Suddenly remembering that his well-being is dependent on this job, Takao jolts. “Okay okay! I’ll _try_ not to fall asleep in class anymore.”

Midorima frowns doubtfully. Takao’s words were not guarantee enough. He needed to really make sure the notes get jotted down properly.

“Sit in front of me from the next class onwards,” he suggests. “That way, I can make sure you don’t fall asleep.”

“Fine,” Takao agrees coolly.

“And please don’t write anything in the margins,” Midorima adds. “I like to keep them empty.”

“Yes yes,” Takao assents. “You’re so fussy Shin-chan.”

Midorima balks at the use of such an overly familiar nickname.

“What did you call me?” he asked, wondering if he had misheard Takao.

“Shin-chan!” Takao repeats light-heartedly, as if it was completely acceptable to shorten somebody’s first name when that somebody cannot even be considered a close friend. Did he not have boundaries? “‘Midorima’ is too troublesome to say. ‘Shin-chan’ sounds nicer.”

“I don’t care if it’s too troublesome,” Midorima protests. “Don’t call me by that overly familiar nickname, Takao.”

“Like I said, you’re so fussy,” Takao says dismissively. “You can call me ‘Kazunari’ if you want.”

“I’d rather not,” Midorima declines bluntly and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Suit yourself,” Takao shrugs and jerks forward when he notices what time it is. “Shit, I’m going to be late for my next class!”

He hastily gathers his belongings and hurries out of the lecture hall, but not before telling Midorima, “Sorry about falling asleep again in class! Don’t worry about it alright, I’ll be the best note-taker you have Shin-chan!”

Midorima groans inwardly. That’s highly debatable. Especially when Midorima finds himself aiming erasers at Takao’s head which was nodding away into dreamland during subsequent classes. The erasers will bounce of the back of his head, snapping Takao back to reality, causing him to rub his head while glaring at Midorima over his shoulder. The medical student thinks he will need to buy erasers in bulk now. And that Takao will not stop calling him ‘Shin-chan’ no matter how many times he asks.

This semester is already breaking all his routines.

* * *

Because of their arrangement, Midorima and Takao inadvertently spend lunch break together at the former’s usual spot. It’s never a quiet affair because Takao is a chatterbox, which Midorima finds weird because one would usually refrain from speaking too much when one is with an individual suffering from hearing problems.

One way Takao uses his mouth (besides gobbling down his food) is to ask questions and he asks _many_ questions. Still, he doesn’t learn much about Midorima since the reticent doctor-to-be doesn’t offer much in the first place. His answers are short and he doesn’t provide more information than necessary. There was no need to delve into each other’s lives after all. Takao is just his note-taker. So what Takao learns about Midorima is basic information.

Like how he’s studying to be a neurosurgeon but is currently doing his foundation studies before he specializes. Midorima doesn’t need to tell Takao for him to know that he’s smart, like IQ 120+ type of smart. He’s probably got straight As all through his academic life and medical school’s going to be a breeze for him.

Takao also learns Midorima doesn’t make those scrumptious lunches. It’s his mother who prepares them so meticulously. He makes a mental note to thank her for fixing his share just as perfectly as her son’s. Having home-cooked meals for lunch makes him imagine that he has a mother who actually cares enough to prepare lunches for him, and not just leave him to fend for himself.

In time, Takao finds out that Midorima is really into horoscopes. It comes in the form of a dedicated, bordering on worshipful, following of Oha Asa. He never fails to watch the broadcast and carry his lucky item with him every day. Sometimes it’s huge, other times it’s small enough to fit into his bag so Takao doesn’t get to see it. Regardless, it’s a staple in his life. Takao amuses himself with the variety he brings to the table and applauds him for being such a dutiful follower of Oha Asa. He could never find such commitment in himself.

On the other hand, Midorima learns a few things about Takao even though he didn’t really want to, but Takao is talkative and he always fills the silence with idle chatter.

He first finds out Takao doesn’t come from a well-to-do family. His parents are separated and he lives alone, the only support he receives from them being paid utilities so at least he doesn’t have to live without electricity and water. The school fees, transportation, and food expenses deplete his money mercilessly and he’s broke, which is why he’s always hungry. That explains why he readily accepted Midorima’s offer the other time.

He also finds out Takao is in the communications faculty studying journalism. He’s also a first-year like him and shares one common interest: basketball. And that’s as far as their similarities go. Takao was a carefree and an easy-going guy. Despite his circumstances, he was constantly happy and seemed to be genuinely enjoying life, something Midorima never understood how he accomplished. It made him wonder how he could laugh so much all the time.

Laughing was something Takao did often. And he was loud. When he laughs, the cool air is filled with light-hearted sounds. Even when he talks, his voice travels. With others, he finds himself burdened with the task of straining his ears to hear them, or try to read their lips quickly, and then giving up because he still cannot hear and they are getting impatient. But with Takao, his voice rings clear in his ears, and sometimes it travels such that Midorima doesn’t even need to read his lips to understand what he’s saying. It’s a respite from the usual motions, where he needs to put in so much effort to understand them that he cannot enjoy the conversation (but it’s not like he ever does). With Takao, it’s easy.

Which is precisely why he raises his walls a little higher and keeps himself guarded. Takao makes it easy to let his guard down, and he cannot have that because people like Takao belong in a whole, different world from him. They don’t mix and it’s better to know Takao as his note-taker, nothing more. It’s better to keep his distance, because the raven-haired boy with a clear voice is someone of the _other side_ , and like people from that side, they won’t understand and they won’t care.

That is what years of experience has taught him. But then again, conclusions drawn from years of experience can be rewritten by the actions of one.

* * *

Because Midorima took a long time to find his lucky item this morning, he was almost late for school. And because he absolutely did not want to be late for school, he got himself in a frenzy while preparing to leave the house. Which ultimately caused him to forget about his and Takao’s lunches, leaving the boxes sitting forlornly on the counter top.

“I forgot to bring your lunch,” Midorima tells Takao without meeting his eager eyes. He was already sitting under the shady tree waiting for him.

“Oh,” he says, the disappointment evident in his voice. “What happened?”

“I was going to be late for school so I was in a rush, and I left them on the counter,” he explains.

“You forgot yours too?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go eat at the cafeteria!” Takao suggests, mood instantly revived. “I’ve always wanted to try the new food stall.”

He got up and made his way back to the building. Midorima hesitated for a moment, not sure if he should follow Takao. There was a reason why he always ate outside by himself and patronizing the cafeteria would be defeating that purpose. However, if he didn’t, he would have to go off with an empty stomach and today was not a good day to do that. He had classes till the evening.

Sighing, Midorima trudges after Takao, practicality ruling his decision.

“By the way Shin-chan, I don’t have any money,” Takao points out unabashedly.

Midorima rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll pay.”

“Hehe, thanks!” Takao grins happily. “Also, did your forgetting our lunches have anything to do with that Jack-in-a-box you’re holding?”

“…Maybe.”

When they enter the cafeteria, it’s packed with students and Midorima’s already uncomfortable with the sea of people. Not surprisingly, Takao feels totally at ease, exclaiming, “Wow, it’s so crowded!” the moment they stepped in.

He drags Midorima to the Chinese food stall and puts them at the end of the long queue. It’s a bummer not to be able to enjoy Shin-chan’s mother’s amazing lunch, but Takao doesn’t mind the cafeteria food as long as it puts something in his tummy. He scans the menu above them to ponder over what he’s getting and he’s torn between the wanton noodles or fried noodles until a couple of voices catch his attention.

“Hey look, it’s that weird first-year,” one of them says with a sneer. “Carrying those stupid items again.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, what the fuck is that? A Jack-in-a-box?”

Takao turns to the sound of those voices and sees that they belong to three dark-haired students in the next queue. They’re staring at Midorima with mockery in their eyes and aren’t even bothering to contain their snickers.

“My kid brother has that! How lame is that guy?”

Takao stops glancing at them furtively and glares outrightly at the offenders, irritated by their rudeness. He can’t believe people are childish enough to talk about other people behind their backs over something as trivial as carrying lucky items. He looks up to Midorima, wanting to alert him of the situation but the green-haired boy is busy studying the menu, completely oblivious to what is being thrown at his back. For some reason, it lights a fire in the pit of Takao’s stomach.

“He’s such a fucking weirdo.”

“Don’t say that so loudly!”

“Idiot, he can’t hear us remember? He’s deaf!”

“No he’s not, you assholes!”

Takao doesn’t realize he’s shouting until the people around him stop what they were doing to look at him, wondering why his grey eyes harboured an angry spark, fists clenched at his sides. Midorima was one of them. He gives Takao a confused look, but Takao doesn’t notice.

“What the fuck?” the tallest of them says offensively.

“Just because he can’t hear you doesn’t mean you get to say whatever you want,” Takao grits out, allowing the anger to spill from his lips.

Midorima pales.

“Who the hell are you now?” another one questions condescendingly.

Oh no, not this again. This is exactly why he didn’t want to come here. He attracts too much unwanted attention. Midorima is overcome by the desire to leave before it gets out of control. It’s bad enough that he’s infamous in the school, he doesn’t want to have confrontations thrown into the mix. He’s tired of all this already. So before Takao can retort, he pulls him back by the elbow.

“Let’s go, Takao,” he says, but his voice is smaller than he would like when he’s trying to mask the imploration.

Takao wants to protest, but it dies in this throat when he notices the desperation in Midorima’s green eyes. He sighs, and his shoulders slump. It takes a lot to turn his back on the unfairness of the situation, but he does, because Midorima’s eyes are pleading. He throws another dirty look at the three of them, disgusted by their actions, before leaving the cafeteria with Midorima and ignoring the whispers surrounding them.

“How ironic for a fucking invalid to be in medical school,” he tallest one mumbles under his breath and while the derogatory remark is lost on Midorima’s ears, Takao catches it in the wind.

In a span of a few seconds, shouts erupt in the cafeteria as Takao cracks his knuckles across the guy’s jaw.

* * *

“Why did you do that?!” Midorima demands as he pants to catch his breath.

They’re in some secluded corner of the campus, though not too far from the cafeteria. Takao loses the ability to reply as he’s bent over, palms resting on his knees and heart thumping in his chest. When the fight broke out, Midorima had to put all of his strength to haul Takao away from pummelling his fist into the guy’s face. He had dragged him out of the cafeteria and they both started running when the other two pursued them. Fortunately, they managed to lose them by taking cover in wherever the hell they were right now.

“They were bad-mouthing you!” Takao exclaims, emotions still running high and colouring his cheeks red. “How can I let that slide?!”

“It’s none of your business,” Midorima snaps.

“I know that!” Takao shouts, not meaning to raise his voice. “I know that…”

His voice trails off and he suddenly feels very stupid for acting so violently and starting a fight.

“Just let them say what they want, I’m used to it.”

“It’s not fair.”

Takao’s voice has dropped to a whisper and he feels the anger building up for a different reason altogether.

“I can’t hear them anyway.”

“It’s not fair,” he repeats with more conviction this time. When he speaks again, he meets Midorima’s emerald eyes and the image of someone who’s been through such unfairness but possesses no anger, no vengefulness, only resignation, rekindles the fire in his belly.

“It’s not your fault you can’t hear!” he shouts, voice hoarse and tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “I may not understand how you feel but I just know that it’s not right for them to say what they want just because you cannot hear! You didn’t choose this! So don’t act like you have to tolerate this!”

He spoke hurriedly and urgently but because he raised his voice, Midorima caught his words and it fills his eyes with surprise. Takao claimed that he didn’t understand, so how did he know that Midorima has been tolerating this whole time? How did he know that ever since he was told he suffered from hearing impairment, that he had to endure the bullying, the pitiful looks thrown his way, the social isolation? Midorima tolerated all of it because of his condition when all he wanted to do was to fight back and speak up, exactly like what Takao did.

Takao claimed that he didn’t understand, but the fact that he saw the injustice of this was understanding enough.

Midorima thinks it was in this moment that he allowed Takao Kazunari to grow close to him.

A natural mistake when the boy with silver blue eyes and a clear voice that rings in his ears stumbles into his life in a riot of colours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takao is the type of guy who thinks with his heart more than he does with his head. And I really like that part of him.


	3. Chapter 3

Midorima catches himself thinking about Takao standing up for him in the smallest of moments. On the commute home, he remembers the definite way his fist connected with the guy’s jaw. When he’s going through his notes at home, he recalls the vindication in his fiery eyes. He memorizes the movement of Takao’s lips when he poured his sincerest emotions into reckless words.

After the outburst, when Takao had calmed down, he told Midorima that it’s okay to speak up. It’s what he did when his schoolmates made fun of him for being poor because his parents didn’t support him. When he took ownership of his own circumstances, it shut them up.

Midorima hadn’t known how to react, but he felt an inexplicable gratitude towards the boy who thought with his heart more than his head. He didn’t get overly emotional, or say much at all. He only mumbled a soft but heartfelt ‘thank you’ to Takao, fighting the heat creeping up his neck and casting his gaze towards the ground.

Even as he lay awake thinking about what happened again, the light blush is persistent on his cheeks. He had been hesitant about accepting Takao’s friendship at first, as it seemed as if the raven-haired boy gave it out too generously. But he has never met anyone as genuine as Takao, who spoke without thinking but said all the right words. And simply because he was genuine, Midorima fell asleep accepting the extension of Takao’s friendship.

* * *

The next few days have Midorima looking forward to seeing Takao, much to his bewilderment. It’s a foreign feeling to want to see someone. Today, he only had one class in which Takao took notes for him, and that took place in the morning, so the rest of the day was spent without the company of the chatterbox.

That soon changes, however, when he spots Takao’s lean frame peeking from around a corner. He quickens his pace, intent on approaching the person he now recognizes as his friend, until his footsteps give him a better view of who Takao’s with. There are three other students with him, seniors probably, and subconsciously, Midorima’s steps slow to a hesitant pace. The unexpected company creates a swirl of uneasiness rising within him; he’s never good with people, let alone a group of them.

Darting his eyes to Takao, he witnesses the wide grin on his boyish features, no doubt brought about by what the seniors were saying. He cannot hear the words exchanged, but they are laughing with one another, so at ease and so absorbed, that Midorima feels like he would be intruding. Just then, Takao releases a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling at the sides, and Midorima is suddenly reminded of the brutal fact that Takao was a person on the other side.

The side where everything was clear as day, where there was no uncertainty, no fear, and no darkness brought about by a disability. Takao was not held back by one, he could interact with others normally and he didn’t need to struggle in social situations. He didn’t have to wonder what was going on most of the time, he didn’t need to be afraid to ask, he didn’t have to worry about being alone. Someone like Takao had a place with the others on the other side of the veil.

So when Takao catches sight of the medical student from the corner of his eye and meets his gaze, directing his grin towards him and waving animatedly, Midorima averts his and walks right pass the smiling boy.

Even if he was kind, even if he was genuine, they still belonged in different worlds. He had choices and freedom, and Midorima would be damned if he were the one to deny him of that. It was better after all, if he keeps his distance.

Midorima doesn’t cover too much ground when loud footsteps advance towards him and Takao appears out of the blue, skidding on his heels before blocking Midorima’s path defiantly.

“What was that?!” Takao demands, although there is not an iota of anger in his voice. He sounded wounded instead.

Midorima’s too startled to give him a reply. Usually, people don’t come chasing after you when you blatantly ignore them. Right?

“Our eyes definitely met and you just walked away!” he pouted. “It’s rude okay, it’s rude!”

“W-We don’t have any classes anymore,” Midorima manages to say, wondering why Takao always had to prove him wrong and send him reeling.

“So what?” he huffs. “We don’t need to have classes to say ‘hi’ to each other! We’re friends right?”

Midorima jolts at the verbalization of that word. He feels embarrassed that something as given and ordinary as friendship elicits such a response from him. And that he actually liked the sound of it. Takao releases a sharp breath, blowing the fringe out of his eyes. All of a sudden, his eyes light up like he just had an Eureka moment.

“Come on!” he exclaims, cleanly forgetting about Midorima’s offence and pulls him along by the wrist. “You can join us for our game on Saturday!”

“What?” he sputters, allowing himself to be led by Takao’s insistent pulls.

Before he can flee, Midorima’s dragged towards the seniors who were with Takao, and as he stands awkwardly in front of them, he knows there’s no escaping this now. Why did Takao seem to have a mission to put him in difficult situations?

“Senpai! Just found us a fifth player!” he beams proudly at them. “Midorima Shintarou, senpai. Senpai, Midorima Shintarou,” he introduces, gesturing between them.

“Don’t just introduce us as senpai you brat!” Miyaji barks.

“Hey,” Ootsubo greets. Midorima thinks he has a rather paternal vibe about him. “I’m Ootsubo Taisuke. This is Miyaji Kiyoshi and Kimura Shinsuke. We’re Takao’s seniors, as you already know.”

The others wave to him and it is Kimura who asks, “So you’re the one Takao’s taking notes for?”

“Yes,” he answers formally.

“I’m surprised you still want him as a note-taker,” Miyaji pipes, smirking at Takao who’s throwing him a dirty look. “Can you even read his handwriting?”

“Hey!”

“He’s…improving,” Midorima says tentatively and Takao looks at him in mild surprise.

“Jokes aside,” Ootsubo says. “You’ll be joining us for Saturday’s game?”

“Game?”

“Takao, you didn’t tell him?” Kimura asks and Takao flashes a sheepish grin. “We’re having a street basketball game and it’s currently the four of us. It’ll be a great help if you join.”

“I haven’t played—” Midorima starts, self-conscious about being invited to join their team when it’s been years since he stepped foot on a basketball court.

“Of course he’s joining!” Takao interrupts. “You’re coming and that’s final!”

“Don’t force others you little shit!” Miyaji scolds and clutches Takao head.

“Ow ow ow ow!”

“I-I suppose I can,” Midorima acquiesces, a little astonished and a little awed at the way they interact and the fact that it’s normal, considering the lack of response from the other seniors.

“Awesome!” Kimura cheers and pats Midorima on the back. He moves jerkily with the movement, unsure of how to react.

“Great, we’ll see you both on Saturday then,” Ootsubo adds.

When Miyaji finally releases Takao’s head, he says, “Us seniors have to get to class now. Don’t be late on Saturday!”

Takao rubs his head, narrowing his eyes at Miyaji’s retreating frame, but waves goodbye to them nonetheless. When they’ve left, Midorima is still recovering from the foreignness of what just transpired. He was invited to a social gathering. A basketball game no less. Even though they didn’t know how good of a player he was. It makes Midorima wonder if Takao’s friends are all as accepting as he was.

They didn’t make a single comment about his hearing problem, even when the topic of note-taking was brought up. To not have his disability brought to the spotlight, which was the case in every weary interaction he has whether it was intentional or not, felt…nice.

“Shin-chan, were you on your way home?” Takao asks.

“Yes,” he responds, snapping out of his reverie.

“Then let’s go home together!”

 Another offer. If it keeps up, he’s going to get used to it. He doesn’t find the energy to refuse Takao, nor does he want to, so he nods.

The commute back home is filled with idle chatter at first, no surprise there. Takao talks about his seniors and explains why he knows them when he’s merely a freshman (he screwed up during course registration). They talk about basketball, and Midorima finds out Takao used to play point guard. He chuckles when Midorima tells him he was a shooting guard in middle school, as if he should have expected anything else, if his height was anything to go by.

Their conversation lulls when they’re on the bus, to Midorima’s slight relief. It wasn’t that Takao was annoying, he just enjoyed the silence, a rare occurrence for someone who already spends most of his time in silence.

By the time they’re making their way home on foot, they’re walking side by side with only the chirping birds and rustle of leaves in late spring as company. Takao has his hands laced at the back of his head, a cheerful bounce in his step. He sneaks a glance at Midorima, who’s prim and proper even when he’s walking. He notices the little crease in his eyebrows and Takao reckons he’s mulling over some trivial matter. Takao thinks he looks pretty cute like that.

His gaze settles on the hearing aid resting in Midorima’s ear. It’s skin-coloured and so small that it’s barely noticeable.

“Hey Shin-chan,” he starts, looking up at Midorima. “Have you had hearing problems your whole life?”

The question arises without preamble but Midorima offers an answer anyway.

“No. I fell ill in the last year of middle school and was down with a fever for a week. When I woke up, it was uncomfortably quiet.”

He remembers waking up in his bed, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead, and not being able to hear anything. Not the faint sounds he’s so familiar with. And when his mother entered his room, he couldn’t decipher the words that tumbled out of her mouth. It had been awfully depressing to be robbed of a basic ability so suddenly.

“How come you had to learn how to lip-read when you already have a hearing aid?” he wonders.

If it were any other conversation, Midorima would have sighed exasperatedly. But Takao’s question was filled with innocent curiosity.

“The hearing aid allows me to pick up sounds better,” he explains. “Lip-reading provides additional support. It’s practical.”

“Hmm,” Takao hums in reply and leaves it at that. Midorima appreciates the fact that he doesn’t offer any words of comfort or sympathy. He’s had enough of that.

“I’m going this way,” Takao says after a while, pointing towards the railroad crossing.

“Oh, I’m going straight ahead,” Midorima answers, not sure why he offered that piece of information. He had been so at ease with going home with Takao that he didn’t realize they had been together for most part of the commute. So the railroad crossing is where they part ways.

“Then I’ll see you on Saturday! Don’t forget about it!” he reminds happily. The yellow and black barriers were up and the crossing bell was silent, so Takao jogs across the road before giving Midorima a wave and continuing on his way home.

Midorima’s mind wanders to the upcoming game on Saturday as the crossing bell blares.

* * *

“Shin-chan! Over here!”

Takao’s excited voice rises above the noise and he spots the boy waving animatedly at him, the familiar seniors by his side. Midorima walks over to them, glad that he was deliberately late because there are _a lot_ of people here and he didn’t want to entertain anyone without Takao’s company.

Takao hands him an orange bib with a grin. He already has his put on, along with the seniors.

“Glad you could make it,” Ootsubo says. “What position do you want to play?”

“Shooting guard please,” Midorima answers, all polite and respectful as always.

“Nice, just what we were lacking,” Kimura adds. “We still got fifteen minutes till the games start so make sure you warm up.”

“Gotcha!”

When the seniors leave to catch up with their friends of the same year, Midorima and Takao are left to their devices. The former hadn’t expected so many people to be here. There were enough to make at least 4 teams.

“Come on Shin-chan, I want you to meet some of my friends!”

With no valid reason to refuse, Midorima lets Takao lead him to a group of people congregating in the basketball court.

“Hey guys!” he calls, catching everyone’s attention. “Meet our newly-acquired shooting guard! Midorima Shintarou, everyone. Everyone, Midorima Shintarou.”

The former shooting guard makes it a point to tell Takao that he should probably stop making introductions like that.

“Nice to meet you, Midorima-kun,” a blue-eyed boy with the plainest expression and most unimpressed voice that Midorima has ever heard greets. “I’m Kuroko Tetsuya.”

“Yo, I’m Kagami Taiga,” the tall one with split eyebrows introduces.

“Aomine Daiki,” the equally tall one with a distinguished tan says.

“And I’m Kise Ryota!” the blonde one exclaims, reminding Midorima of Takao, except more…flashy. “Part-time model, full-time university student! I’m in the arts faculty, I play small forward and my favourite—”

“That’s too long idiot!” Aomine snaps and elbows him in the gut.

“Um, nice to meet…all of you,” Midorima says, feeling a little out of place. How did Takao know all these people?

As if he had read his mind, Takao quips, “We’re all in the same school you know? We have streetball matches once in a while. It’s a good way to play basketball with like-minded people and have an excuse for not doing assignments.”

“That’s just you, Takao-kun,” Kuroko points out.

“So you’re a shooting guard?” Kagami asks, mildly interested. “You play often?”

“No,” Midorima replies. “Not since middle school.”

“He says that,” Takao cuts in. “But we’re going to beat you!”

“You guys played together before?” Kise questions.

“Well no, but I’m still sure!”

“Pretty confident for someone who didn’t turn up for previous games huh,” Aomine challenges.

Takao scoffs, part dismissive about being a no-show recently (he’s got valid reasons), part cocky. “Hell yeah.”

It turns out the cockiness was not misplaced because Midorima wasn’t your regular shooting guard. He was a shooting guard whose three-pointers never missed. Not a single basket. It shocked the hell out of everyone because he did mention he hadn’t played since middle school. Naturally, with his three-pointers, Takao’s excellent passing skills and the team’s remarkable chemistry, their team racked up the most points, although Midorima must admit, Kagami and Kuroko were not a duo to be trifled with.

Midorima realizes he’s not had this much fun since…a long time. He can’t remember the last time he let his hair down and felt not an iota of self-consciousness. Still, the congratulatory pats on the back by his teammates and compliments from his newly-found friends left him feeling a little awkward. So he’s largely glad when they finally get a break and he’s leaning against the fence with Takao.

“So how was it?”

“How was what?”

“The games! Did you have fun?”

“I suppose you could say I did,” he responds after a short pause.

“You should join us for games in the future!” Takao suggests happily.

“Will you be there?”

The question leaves his lips before he realizes he said it out loud.

“Of course!” Takao promises. “I like playing with you. You’re really something on the court you know?”

Midorima hides the blush under his palm as he fixes his glasses on his nose. It was rather alarming to him as well, to know that he still had his talents on the court after so many years.

“You play well too,” he murmurs.

“Heh heh, thanks!”

“Did you play competitively?”

“Nah,” Takao answers, a hint of regret in his voice. “I stopped playing in middle school too.”

“Why?”

Midorima was curious. Takao’s talent could have easily gotten him medals in competitions.

“After my parents separated, I was kinda left to fend for myself,” he shrugs. “They didn’t really care about what I did. Sounds like a good thing right? But I meant it as they didn’t care if I had food on the table, or went to the doctor’s if I was sick. At that time, there were just more important things to worry about than basketball.”

“I see,” Midorima says softly, realizing that just because Takao didn’t have a disability like him, it didn’t mean he wasn’t held back. They both faced difficulties that denied them of opportunities, different, but difficulties nonetheless.

“Takao! Midorima!” Kagami shouts to them. “We’re going to grab lunch at Maji Burger, wanna join us?”

“Sure!” Takao shouts back. “Let’s go Shin-chan.”

“Are you sure?” Midorima says hesitantly. “I don’t really know them.”

“What are you talking about? You played basketball with them! That makes all of us friends by default.”

Midorima knits his eyebrows at the logic, or lack thereof.

“Besides, Kagami called your name right?”

Midorima realizes, he did.

* * *

“I’m home,” Midorima says once he steps inside his house.

“Shintarou, welcome home,” his mother greets back, packing a few files into her work bag. “Where did you go so early in the morning?”

“To a basketball game,” he answers, shrugging off his jacket.

“Oh?” she prompts, not bothering to mask her apparent surprise.

“Takao invited me,” he elaborates but his mother still has the look of confusion on her elegant features.

“Takao?”

“The lunchbox boy,” he states simply.

“Oh!” she says in realization. “That’s very nice of him.”

Midorima misses the hint of appreciation in her voice, but he doesn’t miss the way her eyes soften around the edges.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good,” she says with a small, pleased smile. “You’re all sticky. Take a bath soon okay?”

“Okay,” he assures, a little embarrassed over the proud, little smile his mother gives him. To make matters worse, she squeezes his shoulders and sweeps his fringe to the side to get a better look at his glowing face.

“Mother…” he complains and she relents, chuckling. “Are you going to the hospital?” he asks when she goes to pick her work bag up.

“Yes, I’m taking the night shift at the paediatric ward. Take care of your sister.”

“I will.”

As she closes the door behind her, Midorima’s mother reminds herself to thank the lunchbox boy someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've introduced the GoM! They're only minor characters unfortunately, but you'll see them again! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here I am with a new chapter! The free subscription for my Microsoft Word has expired (since I'm no longer a student orz) and I couldn't even copy and paste my chapter from the Word document...Hopefully I'll get this sorted out soon enough so I can continue writing!

Wednesdays are like Takao’s rest day from note-taking. Midorima only has a tutorial and a practical on Wednesdays. He sits in the front row of the classroom during the tutorial, and it’s only an hour and a half long. It’s manageable enough not to require a note-taker. Practical was two hours long but there wasn’t much talking on the professor’s part. And if Midorima had any questions, he could direct his questions to the professor privately or call a lab assistant.

So imagine his surprise when Takao’s leaning against the wall outside his classroom like he had been waiting.

“What are you doing here? There are no notes for you to take,” he points out, flinching internally when it comes out too brashly.

“I don’t need to have notes to take to see you right?” he counters.

“But I don’t have lunch for you,” he reminds him.

“Sheesh, don’t make it sound like I’m in it for the lunches,” Takao pouts.

“Aren’t you?”

He hadn’t meant to embarrass Takao, but the communications student reddens anyway.

“That’s not entirely true!” he vehemently claims and Midorima finds himself thinking how endearing Takao looks when he’s embarrassed about the truth but is honest regardless. “Anyway! I thought we could still have lunch together, I bought mine already.”

He holds up the cafeteria-bought bentou (Midorima doesn’t pry on how he got the money for that) and continues, “I want to bring you somewhere.”

They end up on the roof of the medicine faculty. It brings back memories for Midorima, who used to retreat to the roof during high school to escape his classmates. At that time, it wasn’t a comfort. It only served as a reminder of his isolation. But it feels different now. Takao’s presence always had a mysterious sort of calming effect on him.

“The spot under the tree is good and all,” Takao begins to provide some sort of explanation for the sudden trip to the roof. “But it’s nicer up here. It’s sunnier and windier. Thought you might like it is all.”

“I do.”

Takao breaks out into a satisfied smile and seats himself down, announcing that he was hungry. Takao was right, it is nicer up here. Midorima takes pleasure in the slight chill of the breeze heralded by the imminent end of spring. He opens his bentou box and welcomes the sight and smell of it. He always appreciated how his mother ensures there’s enough of carbs, proteins, and fibres in his meal. Takao’s already digging into his, and for a moment, Midorima assumes they’ll simply be eating lunch together, enjoying the silence being on the roof brings.

But he really shouldn’t expect anything different from being anywhere else.

Takao strikes a conversation as usual. And he talks with his mouth full. Midorima is still curious over why he even talks so much to a guy with hearing problems. He knows he lip-reads, and he can’t possibly think he’s lip-reading Takao every time he talks right? That’d be too troublesome, and it would also leave him neglecting his lunch. So he just lets Takao ramble.

It’s not like he particularly minds, but it still makes him wonder if Takao knows.

“Do you know you talk too much?” he asks casually.

“Huh? Yeah, I guess,” Takao admits after gulping his food down. “I’ve been told I’m jumpy and noisy.”

When he receives no reply, he suddenly feels a little self-conscious. Had he been babbling?

“Does it bother you?”

Midorima finds it hard to say anything but the truth. Takao rambles, but the good thing is that the raven-haired boy doesn’t expect the medical student to respond much. It seems like he just wants someone to pour his thoughts to. And Midorima can do that much for him.

With Takao, it’s easy. Takao’s voice is clear, and Midorima remembers comparing it to the cloudless sky above. He wonders why it’s so easy with Takao.

“No, it doesn’t.”

The reply leaves Takao seemingly contented, and he returns his attention to his meal, stabbing his fork into a piece of soggy meat. Midorima frowns at that, it didn’t look very appetizing. But that’s what you get when you select the cheapest option at the store.

“Takao, what’s your favourite food?”

“Hm…” he ponders, tapping the fork on his bottom lip. “Kimchi!”

“Kimchi?” Midorima wrinkles his nose.

“Yeah, the Korean dish.”

“I know what kimchi is. I meant, why do you like it? It smells weird.”

“I just like it okay?! Besides, it’s also delicious when you mix it with other food to make stuff like kimchi fried rice, kimchi stew, kimchi pork, kimchi ramen…”

“I get it,” Midorima interrupts, slightly amused by the way Takao’s eyes start to get dreamy. “You love kimchi.”

Takao laughs. “Why do you ask anyway?”

“Just wondering,” Midorima answers evasively.

It would be good if Takao could eat his favourite food again.

* * *

When June rolls around, so do mid-term exams.

Takao pays a little more attention in Midorima’s classes, scribbling down the notes as fast as his ears can catch the professor’s teaching. It’s a slight liberation when the professor digresses and talks about his personal life or is just reading off the slides, because then his hands can take a break.

He spins the pen with his nimble fingers, taps it lightly on the notebook, doodles. Recently, he’s been doodling a lot on Midorima’s notes. He knows the finicky guy wants him to keep the margins clean, but there’s nowhere else to doodle. So Takao shrugs off the request and draws random characters across the lines. He’s pretty fond of the hawk mascot he created while half-listening to the professor drone on about some guy who suffered from anterograde amnesia and couldn’t make new memories.

If Midorima was displeased about the doodles in the margins, he didn’t say anything about it. Which pleases Takao, at least the guy was loosening up. The hawk mascot appears more frequently in the margins and can be considered a denizen of Midorima’s notebook. Takao draws him with different expressions, flying, or simply lying nondescript at the corner of the page.

Eventually, he becomes bored with only drawing. He starts adding phrases he thinks the hawk cartoon would say, like _“When will the class end?”_ or _“I’m going to be a hawk doctor!”_ or _“Shin-chan is a nerd,”_ complete with emojis.

But then mid-terms were starting in a few days, and Takao thinks Midorima could use a little encouragement. He did seem more tired recently after all. Takao draws the hawk emulating a thumbs-up with his wings, or winking with a sparkle beside his eyes and never fails to write something encouraging above his doodles.

It’s not like Midorima didn’t notice the doodles in his margins, they’re clear as day and pop out in his face whenever he opens his notebook. He scowls at first, because he likes to keep the margins neat. You never know when you’d need them to jot down extra notes after all. But Takao’s doodles are kinda…cute. And they provide a pleasing contrast to the pages of jargon and diagrams. Besides, it’s not like they litter the margins all the time. And the quality of Takao’s note-taking isn’t compromised, so no complaints there.

By the time Takao’s hawk mascots is added to the collection of doodles, Midorima’s given up on wanting him to stop and is even looking forward to what Takao might draw next.

He’s hunched over his desk in his spacious room, buried in mountains of notes and textbooks because even though it’s mid-terms, you still have to put in all your effort. Midorima, about to reach his limit of sitting in one position for hours straight, reaches for Takao’s notes and flips through the pages. He scans through the last few pages, refreshing his memory on the latest lecture and making note of what he missed, occasionally glancing at the doodles greeting him from the margins.

There’s one of the hawk mimicking a thumbs-up sign with his wings, with the words _“Good luck for mid-terms!”_ hanging above its head.

Midorima doesn’t realize a smile is tugging at the corners of his lips.

On the next page, there’s another one winking, with the words _“Ace it!”_ written on its feathers.

Midorima thinks that’s the last of it, but when he flips the page, it’s blank save for a soaring hawk drawn sketchily in the middle of the page.

_“Do your best Shin-chan~”_

He chastises himself for the way his cheeks warm, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and hiding the barest of smiles behind his palm.

* * *

“You’re early,” Midorima says in lieu of a greeting when he sees that Takao’s already on the roof by the time he got there.

The communications student turns at the sound of Midorima’s deep voice, grinning widely when he is finally joined by his companion.

“Class ended early. Can you believe it?”

“I’m sure I can’t,” is his affectionate answer.

He pointedly ignores the way Takao stares at him expectantly, waiting eagerly for his lunch.

“Here,” Midorima says and hands the bentou, wrapped snugly in a green cloth, to Takao.

“Thank you!”

Takao hastily unwraps the cloth, removes the lid, and releases the most amazed “ooooohh!” at the sight and smell that greet him. Midorima doesn’t meet the delighted eyes Takao aims at him, instead choosing to conceal his light blush and unwrapping his own bentou delicately. He expected Takao to be happy about what’s in his bentou today, just not _that_ happy.

“Shin-chan! Is this what I think it is?”

“Why don’t you taste it to find out?” he prompts.

“Don’t mind if I do!”

He takes a huge bite, a blissful moan emanating from his closed lips when the sour and spicy flavour floods his taste buds and leaves him in a heavenly mood.

“It’s soooo good,” Takao moans again and Midorima wishes he wouldn’t be so dramatic like that.

“That’s good to hear.”

Takao stops fawning over the kimchi fried rice momentarily to study Midorima and realizes his bentou is different from his. Usually, his mother would just prepare two portions of the same thing.

“Shin-chan, you’re not having kimchi fried rice too?”

“I’m not really a fan of kimchi.”

“Shucks, so your mum specially made this for me?” Takao asks, a little embarrassed and undeserving of the special treatment.

“It’s fine,” Midorima assures. “She likes trying new dishes.”

He doesn’t mention how his mother teased him about making such a good friend that he’d specially request her to make kimchi fried rice for him.

“I really have to thank her,” Takao says resolutely.

“I’ll pass along your thanks,” he offers, not realizing that Takao meant he wanted to thank her personally.

“By the way Shin-chan,” Takao continues, a teasing tone creeping into his voice. “You remembered by favourite food.”

Midorima makes a wordless sound of surprise, looking away from Takao’s devious smirk. “You went on and on about it, so it naturally stuck in my mind.”

“If you say so,” he answers airily. “But thanks anyway. It’s really delicious.”

“You’re welcome,” he responds, his chest tightening when Takao’s words hung off with a twinge of sentimentality.

They eat their lunch in companionable silence and Midorima basks in the familiarity their routine brings. He had hoped university would be over quickly, unlike high school, but now that Takao (literally) tumbled into his life, he doesn’t mind if time passes a little slowly.

“So how were mid-terms?” Takao asks. He’s taking his time to eat, probably savouring each and every bite of kimchi goodness.

“They were manageable,” he replies, relieved that they were now over. “I might have made a few careless mistakes, but nothing that would slide me down the bell-curve.”

“Wow, you’re the first person I’ve met who’d say something like that,” he says in a mix of disbelief and awe. This is university after all. “Well I’m glad, one less thing to worry about.”

Midorima wants to say that his notes played a part in bolstering his confidence. But he doesn’t quite know how to thank him without sounding awkward or making a fool out of himself. In the end, he doesn’t say anything because Takao doesn’t give him a chance to.

“Oh yeah, I found a job.”

The statement stops Midorima from sticking his chopsticks into the bentou. The statement itself is harmless, but the implications make Midorima feel as if his heart plunged all the way to his stomach. If Takao found a job, it means he didn’t need to rely on Midorima to supply his lunches anymore. He didn’t need to be a note-taker anymore. To think he finally found someone he could call a friend, only to have it crumble around him without so much of a warning, was too cruel a joke.

“It’s at a small food retailer not far from my house,” Takao explains. “They needed someone who’s willing to work hard for not much and that’s me. Not the best option but…it’s something.”

He looked so hopeful, like it was the start of turning his life around that Midorima didn’t have the heart to tell him not to take the job and just continue being his note-taker. But Takao had meals to settle during weekends and other expenses to pay, and being a note-taker wasn’t a long-term solution in the first place. He’s filled with sadness to know that this is where their arrangement ends.

He shouldn’t have gotten comfortable.

“I see. That’s good to hear,” he says softly and smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

* * *

Midorima reminds himself to put up those flyers requesting for a volunteered note-taker on the bulletin again. He’s got some time this evening so he’ll churn one out then. The medical student is so absorbed in his thoughts that he takes his usual seat without sparing a glance at his surroundings.

So when a familiar, cheery voice calls him by his nickname, the one only one person ever uses, Midorima jumps in his seat.

Looking up, he sees Takao resting his arm on the back of his seat, wearing the same smile (and the same pullover) and acting as if he hadn’t dropped the declaration on Midorima just yesterday.

“Why are you here?” he demands, his shock overpowering any glimmer of hope that arises in the span of those few seconds.

Takao shoots him a puzzled look.

“What are you talking about? We have class don’t we?”

“ _I_ have class,” Midorima corrects. “You don’t.”

“Shin-chan, did you somehow not need a note-taker anymore? Or did you find yourself another note-taker?”

“No!” he denies heatedly, then the sudden realization that he’s this close to humiliating himself in class forces him to clear his throat and compose himself. It seemed foolish to carry himself this way when Takao did not see the gravity of the situation. “You already found a job. You have money for meals now.”

It takes Takao a while to process those two statements and figure out how they fit in this context. Midorima can pinpoint the exact moment it dawns on him because his eyebrows are raised and he makes an ‘o’ with his mouth. Then, he bursts out laughing.

Midorima scowls. He doesn’t find this funny at all.

“Just because I got a job and can afford meals now doesn’t mean I can’t still take notes for you,” Takao says after collecting himself.

“But why would you still—”

Takao lets out an exasperated sigh, like Midorima can’t understand the simple fact that Takao was still doing this because well, because he wanted to.

“Shin-chan, stop thinking our relationship is based on the exchange of goods and services,” he tells him slowly and Midorima isn’t sure if it was hurt he detected in his voice.

He hadn’t thought about it that way. But now that Takao verbalized it, it was indeed what he subconsciously did. Years devoid of proper friendships moulded the notion that if he wanted to make someone stay, he had to make sure they had something to stay for. With Takao, it was the provision of meals in exchange for taking notes. He thought it was what kept the cogwheels of their arrangement turning. The idea was so deeply seated in his mind he forgot that Takao was genuine and didn’t entertain the thought that his friendship stemmed from the simple desire to stay.

“Besides,” he continues, a mischievous smirk playing on the corners of his mouth. “Whoever said I want to stop eating your lunches just because I got a job?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll be damned if I have to stop eating those divine lunches your mum makes,” Takao jokes.

“Now that I think of it,” Midorima starts, finding himself easing into the comfort of Takao’s presence. “Isn’t note-taking supposed to be a volunteer job?”

The way Takao’s mouth drops open in sheer horror is almost comical and Midorima would have laughed if he wasn’t so reserved.

“Fine, the lunches will continue,” he assures, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Don’t give me a heart attack like that!” he whines.

The professor walks in then, cutting their conversation short. Takao turns to face the front, and Midorima considers asking him to sit next to him from the next class onwards. He rarely dozed off in classes nowadays after all. He also thinks that it was ironic for Takao to say that, when it was he who sent his heart lurching.

* * *

Takao’s new job doesn’t change anything. They still attend Midorima’s classes together, eat lunch together, go home together occasionally. But juggling the note-taking responsibility, his own classes and assignments, and managing his work at the food retailer does take its toll on someone. Even someone as energetic as Takao.

“Don’t skive,” Kasamatsu Yukio, Takao’s co-worker, admonishes.

“I’m not skiving,” he drawls, pushing himself off the counter where he was laying his head. “I’m just taking a short break.”

“Didn’t you take one five minutes ago?” he questions, eyebrows raised and arms folded.

“Did I?” Takao pretends not to recall.

“Don’t get coy with me!” Kasamatsu scolds just as the truck was pulling up in the back. “Good, you can go unload the boxes. That’ll wake you up.”

Takao doesn’t bother telling Kasamatsu he’s his co-worker, not his boss. Instead, he drags his ass off the seat and strolls out of the store. Manual labour would do him some good.

“So what’s up with you recently?” Kasamatsu asks bluntly when they’re having their proper break. “Not getting enough sleep?”

“Four hours on work days, five on non-work days,” Takao answers with his mouth full of rice. “Three when I’m falling behind.”

“Could be better,” Kasamatsu remarks.

“Do naps count?”

“No, idiot.”

Takao shrugs.

“What about reducing the number of your work days?” Kasamatsu suggests.

“No way! I’m barely making enough as a part-timer. If anything, I want to work almost every day like you.”

“I’m a senior about to graduate, I have time, you don’t.”

Takao scoffs. By pure coincidence, he found himself working with Kasamatsu, who was a senior in his university and because he was going to graduate, only had classes on three days. When Takao asked why he decided to work here, he said that it never hurt to earn some extra cash. Besides, the place was convenient for him.

“You have classes every day or something?” Kasamatsu asks.

“Yup,” he quips. “It’s not supposed to be like that. I screwed up my courses during registration because I didn’t know how the system worked so I got a shitty schedule. And I’m a note-taker too, so I attend extra classes.”

“Note-taker? The ones for students with hearing disabilities?”

Takao gets over the initial surprise of finding out that Kasamatsu knows about such a thing fairly quickly, because the guy is a senior after all and he seems like he knows a little about a lot of things.

“Yeah, he’s studying medicine,” Takao answers.

Kasamatsu whistles.

“So classes must be hard to follow?”

“In the beginning yeah. And it was so boring, it still is actually. But I learnt how to stay awake and I got the hang of it after a while. It’s just note-taking after all. Piece of cake.”

“The bags around your eyes tell a different story though.”

“Hey! They’re not that bad. And it’s not because of the note-taking thing. I just have bad sleeping habits alright?”

“If you say so,” he relents and starts to pack his empty lunchbox away. “Who’s the guy anyway?”

“Midorima Shintarou,” Takao replies, the name rolling off his tongue sprightly. “Green hair, greener eyes. Wears glasses. Tall, like really tall. Looks like a nerd but could probably look like a jock if he tried. Really funny guy.”

Kasamatsu frowns at Takao’s unsolicited and unnecessarily personal description of the guy.

“Can’t say I’ve heard of him,” he answers. “Come on, break time’s over. Let’s get to work.”

“Roger that!”

* * *

“Shin-chan, let’s go for the summer festival!” Takao proposes on a hot day in the middle of July.

Midorima finds himself not opposing to the idea.

“When is it?” he enquires and Takao does a little victory dance in his head.

“It’s happening the whole week, but we could go on Sunday. I could take a day off from work.”

“Is that okay?” Midorima asks concernedly.

Takao smiles at him. “Sure! I heard there are going to be fireworks on Sunday, would be a shame not to go right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” he says, already looking forward to Sunday.

Midorima turns up at the crowded festival dressed tastefully in a grey kimono and Takao needs to bite his tongue to keep his mouth closed. His silver blue eyes widen though, because there was no way he could not react when Midorima looked absolutely dashing in traditional clothing.

“You look good,” he compliments when the taller boy approaches him.

“Thank you.”

“I would’ve worn a kimono too,” Takao tells him, shoving his hands into his pockets. “If I could find it.”

“I’m sure you would look good in one too,” Midorima offers.

Takao blinks.

“Shin-chan! You’re gonna make me blush!” he jokes, patting his hand on Midorima’s shoulder. The green-haired boy looks away in embarrassment, adjusting his glasses as he did so. “Have you tried shateki*? I wanna challenge you!”

“Are you sure? You know I never miss my shots right?”

“That’s only in basketball isn’t it?”

“We can find out,” he says subtly and walks ahead.

“Wait, seriously?!” Takao shouts after him. “Then I’m going to lose am I?!”

Takao does lose predictably. But it doesn’t stop him from challenging Midorima in other games, like kingyo sukui*, senbonbiki*, and wanage*, which he also loses spectacularly in. Midorima isn’t concerned about his winning streak though, as Takao is far from a sore loser. He has fun regardless of the outcome, so Midorima doesn’t go easy on him.

He can tell Takao’s mouth is watering from passing stalls of takoyaki, yakisoba, apple candy, and chocolate-covered bananas, but is holding himself back because paying for all of that would burn a hole in his wallet. And although he wasn’t very hungry, Midorima patronizes the stalls under the pretence that he wants to try festival food, always purchasing an extra serving for Takao.

The sharp boy realizes soon enough and interrupts Midorima’s order by asking for only one serving and then sharing it with his blushing friend. Amidst the fun and indulgence, they bump into Kuroko and Kagami at the stall selling masks. They engaged in small talk, in which Takao did most of the talking, finding out that they were here alone as well, before going their separate ways (Kuroko wanted to queue for cotton candy).

Midorima had wondered if attending the festival would turn out to be a bad idea because it was too noisy. His hearing aid couldn’t pick up the sounds distinctly and he had to rely on lip-reading. But as he weaved through the crowd with Takao at his side, enjoying the games, the food, and most of all, Takao’s company, he forgot about the cacophony of noises he can’t quite make out.

Time flies when you’re having fun and soon, Midorima is being dragged by the wrist to an empty spot on the field.

“The fireworks are starting!” Takao announces eagerly.

There are a ton of people gathered on the field but Midorima pays them no mind. He’s more occupied with the boy beside him, whose eyes light up in childish delight when the first firework explodes in the starless sky.

“Tamaya!!” Takao shouts into the sky, his voice blending with several others, yet sharp and clear to Midorima’s ears.

As the fireworks paint the dark sky a myriad of colours, Midorima sneaks a glance at Takao. He cannot begin to explain the whirlwind of emotions that rises in his chest, but when it settles around his heart, he finds himself falling. He falls over the edge and it takes his breath away.

In the field with hundreds of strangers and fireworks illuminating the sky with strobes of light, Midorima falls for the boy who stumbled into his life and who proved him wrong time and time again, who showed him a genuineness he has never seen before, who for some reason, stayed. He falls in love with him, and it is nothing he can stop.

When he accepts that revelation, the colourful explosions in the sky cannot match the pounding of his heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta dah!!! Kasamatsu is here! I've been so eager to introduce him as one of Takao's friends. I've always had the headcanon that they would be good friends after seeing some fanart of them together as Team TFS teammates. Kasamatsu will be making quite a few appearances here ;)
> 
> Here are the explanations for the festival games:  
> Shateki - the shooting game where you shoot down cans etc.  
> Kingyo sukui - the one where they catch fishes with a small net (they played this during one of the drama CDs)  
> Senbonbiki - a game based on luck where you pull a string and whatever item that rises is yours to keep  
> Wanage - it's like ring toss
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long chapter to make up for the long wait.

A week before the year-end examinations, Midorima collapses in his home.

It started with a ringing in his ears. Just intermittent disruptions punctuating the silence. It irritated him and put a scowl on his face; he didn’t manage to catch his lucky item for the day because of it. He ignored it at first, attributing the cause to a random glitch in his hearing aid.

But it persisted, and the ringing grew louder and longer. Until it evolved into a shrill in his ears, sending jolts of sharp pain through his ears, as if they cut through his brain. Midorima vaguely remembers his mother crouching down, asking him what’s wrong as he fell to the floor with his eyes squeezed shut and palms covering his ears, like he wanted to keep the pain inside until it subsides and stop it from bleeding out.

“It seems your hearing has degenerated,” his doctor, Nakatani-sensei, informs as-a-matter-of-factly when they’re seated in the sterile office an hour later.

“Oh dear…” Midorima’s mother laments.

Midorima remains silent and curls his fist on his knee, he has expected something like this the moment he stepped onto the white tiles of the hospital.

“The area’s become hollower,” Nakatani explains as he skims through the report, the lines around his mouth deepening. “It’s possible your hearing was degrading so slowly you didn’t notice it.”

Midorima lets the doctor’s diagnosis sink in. He understands what’s happening. He just doesn’t understand why.

“Well, it’s hard to determine the exact reason,” he answers and Midorima realizes he actually said it out loud. “We’ll need to run a few more tests so I’m going to have you to come in next week.”

“Will my son need cochlear implants?”

The possibility makes Midorima’s stomach churn with dread. But Midorima Kiyoko was a headstrong woman who never minced her words and it was better to know the whole truth now than delay it.

“It hasn’t deteriorated to that extent,” was the silver lining. “But you may need to replace your hearing aid, which is why we need you to come in for more observations.”

Midorima nods his head in compliance. When his doctor said his hearing was degrading slowly, he wondered if it was a continuous process. If it had been happening after all this time, is it safe to say that it will continue to happen? Was there no end in sight? And if there wasn’t, it would mean that eventually, he would become completely deaf right? How long would it take? A month? A year? Ten years?

“Will I become completely deaf?” he forces himself to ask.

Nakatani pauses before answering solemnly, “I can’t rule out that possibility. Your hearing could drop significantly, but it could also remain unchanged. As it is now, a new hearing aid would solve the current problem. I suggest you take one step at a time.”

Midorima schedules his tests at the hospital for the whole week, disregarding the fact that he would be missing the last week of classes. But there probably isn’t much left to cover anyway, and he wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible.

On the car ride home as the surroundings pass him by in a blur, Midorima thinks about all the things he won’t be able to hear. There should be a lot of things, but only one thing occupies his mind. With his worsened condition, he won’t be able to hear Takao’s voice.

The very sound that comforts him and fills him with inexplicable joy will be something he cannot hear anymore. And all of a sudden, Midorima is overwhelmed with sorrow. Why did this have to happen now of all times? He had just realized he harboured romantic feelings towards Takao and hoped that maybe, by some miraculous twist of fate, that Takao would like him back. After all, he finally felt as if he was welcomed on the other side, but this setback reeled him in again and slapped a cruel reminder that he shouldn’t hope he could belong in a world created by those who could hear.

Even so, even if Takao seems so far out of reach again, he wanted to see him. He wanted to see his smiling face, and hear his laughter once more. Midorima’s sure it would give him some semblance of control over this grim situation.

So he visits Takao’s workplace in the evening, when he’s fairly sure the boy would be in. It’s a Sunday, and Takao always worked during the weekends. On Sundays, he would take the morning shift so that he’d have enough sleep for Monday. But when he turns up at the food retailer (whose name Takao mentioned before), he is instead met with a spiky-haired male with strange-looking eyebrows.

“Takao?” he says gruffly. “He’s not in today. Called in sick.”

“He’s sick?”

From the way the guy behind the counter raises his eyebrows, Midorima’s concern must have been very apparent.

“Yeah, said he wasn’t feeling well and wanted to take a day off.”

“I see…”

A crestfallen expression blankets his features and Kasamatsu takes pity on him. Besides, he seems very familiar.

“What’s your name?” he questions.

“Midorima Shintarou,” he answers hesitantly.

Kasamatsu tips his head in understanding. Green hair, greener eyes. This was the guy.

“You’re the medical student Takao takes notes for right?”

“Yes,” he says just as tentatively. Had he been a conversation topic between Takao and his co-worker?

“He mentioned you a few times,” Kasamatsu explains. “Well, I’m sorry I can’t really help you. Takao’s not in today, and I don’t know if he will be tomorrow. He sounded pretty sick on the phone.”

Again, concern is written all over his face. “Did he say what he was down with?”

“Sounded like a cold?” Kasamatsu speculates. “Not surprising, considering the way things are going for him.”

“What do you mean?”

Kasamatsu shrugs. “He’s got a packed schedule attending so many classes. And he might say he got the hang of medical classes, but he looks like crap coming into work all the time. Plus, he’s juggling this job which doesn’t even pay that well and involves a lot of manual labour. It’s only a matter of time before he works himself sick. Jeez, that guy should treasure himself more.”

Midorima feels his stomach twist. Takao had been so busy, yet he put aside time to attend the summer festival with him. But the worst part was knowing that he was part of the reason Takao fell sick. He knew his classes were not easy, especially for someone as inexperienced in the field as Takao. But he never once complained, and Midorima assumed it was okay.

He hadn’t even thought that Takao could be struggling. He was already having a difficult time trying to make ends meet, he didn’t need another unnecessary responsibility like taking notes. He didn’t need another burden to weigh him down. Especially when that burden was going to be heavier.

Maybe it was the bleak news he received today that clouded his judgment, or maybe it was his old habits acting up again. Regardless, Midorima decided what he needed to do. It might be painful, but at least he wouldn’t need to live with the guilt of weighing Takao down.

“Thank you,” he says quietly to Kasamatsu before leaving the store.

It is only when he’s lying against his bed board does Midorima dare himself to finish what he promised. He tries not to think about how sudden this must seem to Takao but there was no point in delaying the inevitable, is there? Eventually, he’s going to be so much of a chore that even Takao would be tired of him and settle himself comfortably around people who are like him.

The trip to the doctor’s had been a harsh reminder but if anything, Midorima was glad it happened sooner than later. It makes this all a little bit easier, when walking away wouldn’t bring so much pain. It had been foolish of him to hope that he and Takao could be something more when they were so different in a world of ways.

Midorima’s thumb hovers over the button for a moment, before he presses ‘send’ and switches his phone off. He leaves it on the nightstand and prays that the soundless dreams won’t haunt him this time.

When Takao wakes up from his nap, which stretched into the night, he pats around his futon in search for his phone. He sneezes and then sniffles, letting out a groan so the empty house knows he’s feeling like shit. He chastises himself for not drinking enough water, or eating enough fruits and vegetables, or some other healthy stuff mothers like to force onto their children. No matter, his immune system kicks back pretty quickly.

He manages to find his phone after groping the floor for a while, squinting when the bright light assaults his sleepy eyes. There’s a message from Miyaji-senpai, one from Kagami recommending a recipe for colds but it’s not like he had the money or skills for it, and one from…Shin-chan? Takao rarely receives messages from Midorima so that perked him up a little bit. He opens the message and reads it as fast as his groggy mind can muster.

What turned out as a hope that Midorima somehow knew he was sick and sent him well wishes quickly turned into confusion. As he read on, his forehead is lined with creases as he tries to make sense of it. But with the state of his drowsy mind, Takao can’t, for the life of him, understand why Midorima sent such a message. Groaning again, he chucks his phone away and burrows under the thin covers. Maybe he’s still dreaming.

_“Takao, my apologies for sending you a message so late. I wanted to tell you that you don’t have to be my note-taker anymore. It’s not that you were doing a bad job. It’s the contrary actually. And I want to thank you. Not only for your note-taking, but because you helped me a lot just by being there. Which is why I won’t be inconveniencing you any further._

_I’ll find someone else to take my notes. I’m sorry to have caused you unnecessary trouble.”_

* * *

It’s not a dream, Takao realizes, when he checks his phone in the morning and the message is still staring at him from the screen. Instantly, the panic rises in his chest. Something must have happened to compel Midorima to write such a message. He types out his own reply hastily.

_“Shin-chan, did something happen? Why did you say such things?”_

Takao prepares for school as he mulled over the reason behind the abrupt message. An uneasiness settles within him and follows him all the way to school.

Being the stubborn brat he is, Takao walks into Midorima’s class, determined to confront him about the message he sent last night. He wasn’t about to stop being his note-taker without an explanation. The guy hadn’t even bothered to reply his texts, even though he sent a ton and sounded worried. But when Takao entered the lecture hall, ready to interrogate Midorima, his seat was empty and it’s not like him to be late. In fact, he was never late for class.

“Hey Hanamiya,” Takao calls, grabbing the attention of his intimidating seat partner. “Did Sh-Midorima come into class by any chance?”

“Huh?” he says tersely. “How would I know? I just got here.”

“Right, thanks.”

The rest of the class has Takao distracted. He took half as much notes as usual. It’s difficult to pay attention when thoughts and speculations about Midorima’s bewildering message kept running through his mind. Did he do something wrong? Perhaps Midorima grew weary of his incessant chattering and pestering. Perhaps he was just too much to handle. Or maybe he saw him ogling at him in a kimono. Oh god, he really hoped that wasn’t the case.

The fact that Midorima missed school was another baffling matter. Had he already gotten a new note-taker and that person was sitting right here in this hall with him? Did he have the new note-taker take his place in order to avoid Takao? No, Midorima was a diligent student who took responsibility for his own studies, he would never do something like that. So what then? What exactly happened to make him cut all ties with Takao out of the blue? It was frustrating him to no end.

Refusing to back down without a proper explanation, Takao continues attending Midorima’s classes throughout the week, growing more distressed and less hopeful. He had bombarded Midorima’s phone with messages and none of them were replied to. By Friday, he’s been sitting in for medical classes for a whole week without seeing Midorima at all.

The possibility of something serious happening to his friend worried him. And with all the ignored messages and absence from school, Takao doesn’t know what else to do but actually look him up at his own house.

“But I don’t know where he lives!” Takao whines to his seniors after venting his frustrations to them.

“Don’t you two go home together?” Miyaji asks.

“Only till the railroad crossing. All I know is that he walks along the tracks.”

“You say he hasn’t turned up for classes for a week?” Kimura says.

“Yeah, I’m afraid something bad has happened. He doesn’t reply to my texts so I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Maybe your note-taking just sucks,” Miyaji remarks.

Takao pouts. “But in the message he sent, he said I didn’t do a bad job with note-taking.”

“What else did he say?” Ootsubo prompts.

“That I helped him out a lot, which is why he doesn’t want to trouble me anymore. I don’t get the connection!” Takao shouts, burying his fingers in his hair. “If I helped him, shouldn’t he want me to stay? I don’t understand why he suddenly cut all ties with me and I don’t even know what I did wrong!”

Ootsubo shoots a knowing look to his friends, who return it and glance sympathetically at Takao.

“Listen Takao,” Ootsubo starts. “Midorima probably has his personal reasons for what he’s doing. So don’t let your imagination run wild. It’s best if you talk to him about it face-to-face.”

Takao purses his lips, giving careful thought to Ootsubo’s words. “But I don’t know where he lives.”

“You can check the Yellow Pages,” Kimura proposes.

“And you know the general area he stays at,” Miyaji points out. “Finding out where he lives won’t be difficult at all.”

The seniors watch as the light in Takao’s eyes slowly return and soon, a wide grin breaks out on his face. “You’re right! Thanks senpai!”

“Idiot, just don’t make that kind of troubled face anymore,” Miyaji reprimands. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Takao chuckles sheepishly and scratches his cheek. He carries out his seniors’ suggestions during work, where he’s half-sure they got a directory there (he’s right). The store’s pretty empty since it isn’t a peak period, so Takao peruses the Yellow Pages on the counter, scanning through the names starting with “Midorima” and checking them off.

He’s so engrossed in his task he doesn’t notice Kasamatsu approaching him.

“What are you doing?” Kasamatsu asks.

“Trying to find Shin-chan’s address so I can go kick his butt for ignoring me,” Takao replies without looking up.

“Oh,” Kasamatsu says, the word coming out as if he remembered something. “He came by.”

“What?”

“Yeah, Midorima right? He dropped by on Sunday.”

“Wait, why?!”

Takao’s voice grew loud and Kasamatsu frowned, withdrawing a little as Takao sat up straight, craning his neck to stare at him.

“I don’t know, he didn’t state his business but he sounded pretty concerned when I told him you were sick,” Kasamatsu tells him. “And keep your voice down, there are still customers in the store.”

Takao blinks at his co-worker, the cogs in his mind working at full speed. So Midorima had looked him up…and was even worried that he was sick. Maybe his speculations about Midorima not wanting him around are unfounded. The thought of it lightened his mood.

“Kasamatsu-saaaan, why didn’t you tell me earlier?!”

“I forgot.”

Takao pulls a face but doesn’t roll his eyes because Kasamatsu’s _fierce_.

“Hey can I leave work earlier? I got something _really_ important to do.”

“Why are you asking me? Go get the boss’s approval,” Kasamatsu says. “He probably doesn’t care if you leave early though, considering the way he’s running this place. Just don’t expect to be paid for the hours you take off.”

“Got it!”

* * *

Midorima’s house is _huge_. And to Takao, it’s an understatement. The Midorima residence was three-storeys high, with a balcony looking out, and a spacious front yard. He gapes at it and part of him wishes he got the wrong house because he feels so out of place in his t-shirt and faded jeans. But there was no mistaking it. The characters “Midorima” are printed elegantly in front of the house.

Takao swallows and tidies the notes in his arms. Since he was visiting, he might as well bring Midorima’s notes to him as well. No need to waste all that effort. His finger hovers over the doorbell but before he could ring it, a car pulls up to him.

Stepping away, Takao glances curiously at it. Would Midorima be there? Instead, a woman in her middle ages who looked younger than that pops her head out of the driver’s window.

“Hello,” she greets amiably. “Who might you be?”

“I’m Takao Kazunari,” he introduces. “Sh-Midorima’s friend from school. I’m here to pass him some notes.”

“Oh, the lunchbox boy!” she says in realization. “Come on in. Let me just park the car and we can go inside.”

She drives into the porch as the gate opens automatically, leaving Takao wondering, “Lunchbox boy?”

The inside of their house was just as luxurious as the outside. Takao has to stop and stare at the pristine white tiles, elegant furniture, and beautiful pieces of artwork hanging on the walls. He had no idea Midorima was this rich.

“Here, make yourself at home,” the woman tells him kindly, handing him a cup of freshly-brewed tea.

“Thank you,” he says politely and takes a seat opposite her on their expensive-looking couch. He takes a sip of the tea and makes a pleased sound when he finds out it’s green tea. His favourite.

Midorima’s mother chuckles lightly at his expression. “Shintarou really wasn’t exaggerating when he said you make a blissful face every time it comes to something delicious.”

“Ah I’m sorry,” Takao apologizes hastily, a little embarrassed over not keeping himself in check in front of such a sophisticated-looking woman.

“Oh no, don’t be, I’m glad it’s to your liking,” she says gently. “From what Shintarou tells me, it seems you are a fan of my lunches too.”

“Of course! They’re always delicious,” Takao exclaims then clears his throat. “Thank you for preparing them for me. I really liked the kimchi fried rice.”

He looks away bashfully, cheeks heating up as he likened her to a mother he wished he had.

“You’re most welcome,” she smiles pleasantly. “But you should know, it was Shintarou who made the special request. He must have known what you liked. It surprised me, I can tell you that.”

“Did he?” Takao asks rhetorically. Midorima had conveniently left that part out. The interesting piece of information made his heart skip a beat.

“Speaking of my son, I’m sorry he’s not around now,” she tells him apologetically. “He’s at the hospital for his tests.”

“Hospital?” Takao asks, doing nothing to mask his puzzlement or concern. “What tests?”

“He didn’t tell you?” she asks, surprise crossing her features.

Takao shakes his head, eyebrows creasing.

“Shintarou’s hearing has deteriorated recently,” she explains gravely, pushing up her frameless glasses by the hinge. “He collapsed at home and was in so much pain I took him to the hospital. The doctor said he would require new hearing aids, so he’s been going for tests the whole week.”

Takao casts his gaze down at his tea, biting his lip. “He didn’t say anything…”

“You mustn’t blame him,” she starts, noticing the look of concern written all over Takao’s face. “Shintarou relies on himself so much he tends to keep things to himself.”

Takao snaps his head up and looks at her earnestly. “When did this happen?”

“Sunday.”

Sunday…the day he sent that message and tried to cut all ties with him. Takao feels as if the final piece of the puzzle is falling into place and his gut feeling tells him Midorima’s trip to the doctor had something to do with the message.

“Um Midorima-san, do you know when he will be back?” Takao asks, determined to clear up this whole misunderstanding once and for all.

“Just before dinner time, around 6pm,” she answers, curiosity in her voice.

“Thank you,” Takao says, his voice sounding firmer than before when he knows he can fix this. “I should get going, can you pass these notes to him please? They’re for the classes he missed during the week.”

“Of course,” she says and takes the notes from Takao. She meets his eyes as she continues, “I should be thanking you, Takao-kun. Shintarou may act all tough on the outside, but he’s a still a child. And I’m glad you are there to look out for him.”

Takao can’t help but wonder why people are thanking him for doing something he enjoys. He likes being around Midorima.

“He’s my friend!” Takao says, as if it explained everything and she laughs.

Takao whiles away the time at a nearby park, finding a pavilion and writing his essay as he waits patiently for Midorima to turn up after sending him a message requesting to meet. He hadn’t got a reply from him, but he’s positive he’ll show up. He can be quite persuasive if he sets his mind to it.

The message said, _“Hey, can we meet? I’m at the park near the railroad crossing, the one with the traditional-looking pavilion and children’s playground. I’ve got something important to tell you. You better show up because I won’t leave this place until you do!_ (; ･`д･´) _”_

It’s a quarter past six but Takao refuses to lose hope. His resolution is rewarded when he hears footsteps approaching and looks up to see Midorima, clad in a navy blue Henley rolled up to his elbows and a fitting pair of jeans, taking tentative steps towards him. Midorima stops a safe distance from Takao and doesn’t meet his eyes. Takao realizes how much he missed his shy expressions and it was like a punch to the gut.

“Shin-chan.”

“Takao, I don’t think it’s a good idea to—”

“You’re an idiot!” he blurts, the rush of emotions breaking through and taking a hold of his tongue.

Midorima looks at him, offended. “What?”

“I know about your hearing going down,” Takao says it as an accusation but with less bite.

“How did you—?”

“I visited your house today. You weren’t in but your mum was, and she told me about it.”

Midorima doesn’t say anything. He averts his gaze as he tries to find some appropriate response but fails. What could he possibly say when Takao was already privy to the one thing he wanted to keep from him?

“Is that why you sent me that message?” Takao questions, persistent on getting some answers even with Midorima’s reticence.

He takes a while to answer, feeling ill at ease when the dreaded message is brought up. “I didn’t want to trouble you anymore. Not when my hearing is getting worse.”

The answer doesn’t placate Takao at all. On the contrary, it made his temper flare. “How is that a valid reason to cut ties with me?! I told you it’s not your fault remember?”

Midorima matches Takao’s heated reply with his own. “You don’t understand! You’ve helped me enough, I shouldn’t weigh you down any longer.”

“You’re not weighing me down,” Takao says, the creases in his forehead reinforced by the disbelief in his tone.

Midorima sighs, because Takao isn’t understanding that he would be better off without him. “I know my classes are difficult and can be hard to follow. And you have your own work and problems too. You shouldn’t force yourself and you even fell sick because—”

“I fell sick because I don’t drink enough water or eat enough fruits and vegetables okay?!” Takao interrupts, frustrated that Midorima is making baseless connections on his own. “And nobody is forcing me to do anything!”

Midorima clicks his tongue impatiently. Why did Takao have to be so clueless? “Takao, I’m grateful to you. But you can’t keep being my note-taker for the next three years. You’re talented, you should spend your time nurturing your skills or doing things you like.”

Having to spell it out for Takao made his stomach twist. It didn’t feel good to admit it out loud, but the truth was never easy. It was a pity then, that Midorima thought his statements held veracity.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he says quietly and the ache is nothing compared to what he says next. “I’ll be okay even without you.”

The assertion sucks the breath out of Takao’s lungs. Midorima was intelligent, capable, and Takao knows for certain that his disability has no bearing on the brightness of his future. Of course he would be okay without someone like Takao. But before he uttered that declaration, Takao didn’t know how much he wanted to be needed. He wanted to be _wanted_.

“I know you’ll be okay without me,” he admits with a heavy heart. “But I want to be with you anyway. Stop taking on everything by yourself. I know you’re used to relying on yourself, but is it so bad to rely on others too? On me?”

His voice holds a hint of imploration and he hopes Midorima doesn’t catch it. As it turns out, Midorima is too shocked to do so.

“You…you want to be with me?” he asks incredulously, his green eyes widening behind clear frames.

Takao feels his face glowing and it has nothing to do with the setting sun. Embarrassed over the way it came out, Takao’s eyes dart around. Out of everything he said, he didn’t expect him to hang on to that part. It catches him off-guard and he struggles with his answer. “W-Well yeah, because we’re friends aren’t we?”

It stirs a bittersweet emotion in his chest because while he’s glad that Takao finds him good enough a company despite what he said, he longs for an attachment with Takao that goes beyond mere friendship.

“I…”

“We are! I don’t want to hear you say anything else! Ahhhh,” Takao interjects, squeezing his eyes shut and messing up his hair in vexation. When he opens them again, he makes sure to hold Midorima’s startled gaze. “This has been so complicated when it’s actually very simple. Let me spell it out for you.”

He takes a deep breath and advances towards Midorima, who swallows nervously. When he speaks, he speaks slowly and clearly so that Midorima will hear every single word. “You need to loosen up and stop thinking you have to be alone because there are people who care about you and want you to rely on them. So quit firing me as your note-taker and just let me do what I want to do! Got it?”

“G-Got it…” he manages, taken aback at Takao’s insistence.

“Good, now I’m starving. Want to grab dinner?”

Midorima knows for a fact that he will never forget how earnest Takao looked in the shadows casted by the setting sun.

* * *

A simple act like ringing the doorbell is making Midorima nervous. He’s beginning to have second thoughts about showing up at Takao’s house unannounced. It’s late and Takao might not even be home. He could still be working. Maybe he should turn back now.

But the door swings open to reveal Takao with his hair dripping wet and a towel slung around his shoulders.

“Shin-chan?” he’s just as stunned to see Midorima standing at his front door.

“I just came to pass you some food,” he tells him. “Dessert actually. Since you visited my house yesterday, I thought I should return the favour.”

Takao’s eyes immediately brighten at the mention of food. “Come in!”

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Midorima mumbles and toes his shoes off in the entranceway.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” he says cheerily. “Just make yourself comfortable.”

Takao hurriedly puts his towel away and seats Midorima at the small coffee table with two glasses of water, taking his on the opposite side.

“By the way,” Takao says. “How did you know where I live?”

“Yellow Pages,” Midorima replies, as if the answer would be anything else.

Takao lets out a short laugh and ignores Midorima’s look of confusion over what was so funny. He hears the rustle of the plastic bag and bites his bottom lip in anticipation as Midorima takes out the container.

“What is it?” Takao asks eagerly.

“Cheesecake,” he answers and starts to feel nervous again when Takao opens the box excitedly. His mouth practically waters when the sight of diced cheesecake greets him. “Um, I have to tell you, it might not taste as good as you expect.”

The warning comes a tad too late as Takao’s already popping a forkful of the fluffy cheesecake into his mouth. Midorima watches apprehensively as he chews and his stomach churns with dread when Takao starts to make a face.

“I told you,” he says in embarrassment. “I’m not exactly a prodigy in the kitchen.”

Takao swallows thickly and replies urgently, “No no! It’s not that bad. Just a little…bland.”

Midorima shoots him a dubious look.

“Really! And more importantly, you made cheesecake for me Shin-chan?” Takao asks with playfulness dancing in his silver blue eyes.

“I didn’t make it specially for you,” Midorima denies, adjusting his glasses. “My sister wanted to have cheesecake and I thought I’d try my hand at it. I made too much, so I decided to give you some when I remembered you’re such a glutton.”

“Hey! I’m not a glutton, I just know how to appreciate all types of food,” he counters, smiling because he knows Midorima had just teased him.

Midorima gives him a small smile. “You know you don’t have to finish it.”

“No, I want to! Like I said, it’s not bad,” he assures. “Thanks Shin-chan.”

“You’re welcome…”

True to his word, Takao digs in and savours the homemade cheesecake as best as he can. As he eats, Midorima looks around the house. It’s a common Japanese apartment but something about Takao’s house was off. It was too bare.

The living room only had a small, worn-out couch, an old model of a television, and the coffee table they were sitting at. The refrigerator in the kitchen has been replaced by a mini-fridge and it looked odd standing at a short height beside the stove. The walls are empty and the paint seemed to be peeling off at the corners. There are two other rooms, and the state of the house tells him that they would be just as barren.

Takao notices Midorima’s eyes roaming and feels obliged to give him an explanation. “Ever since my parents started living apart, they hardly ever came home. They pay the bills and all, but I had school fees to pay, food and transport money to take care of. So I sold some of the stuff at home, it’s not like they’d notice or care anyway.”

Takao chuckles humourlessly. “That’s why it looks so empty.”

“I see,” Midorima answers, for lack of a better response. He wants to know more, but a part of him is afraid he would be prying. Yet, Takao looks at him innocently, like he doesn’t mind baring all to Midorima.

“Are your parents still married?” Midorima asks curiously. It had been strange for them to still be together when they acted the total opposite.

“Yeah,” Takao replies. “Weird huh? I think it’s a ‘it’s-more-practical-to-stay-married’ type of decision. Staying apart is a mutual decision and they don’t care if the other is seeing anyone else, so they didn’t see a need to go through the hassle of a divorce. They can just live however they want while keeping the civil benefits of a marriage.”

A spark of anger flashes in Midorima’s emerald eyes. It was one thing for them to abandon their son. But it was a whole different thing for Takao to feel as if it was normal.

“Didn’t they spare a thought for you?” Midorima presses, trying to find some sort of redemption for his parents.

Takao shrugs. “They did tell me they were separating. And told me to live with a relative but I guess my relatives didn’t really care too because no one looked me up. I was in middle school and I didn’t understand it fully, but by the time I did, I kinda got used to the life.”

“Haven’t you thought of looking them up? Your relatives? Your parents?” Midorima asks, indignant of the cruelty Takao was put through. How could anyone treat their flesh and blood this way?

“Well yeah…I did. Once,” Takao answers slowly, fiddling with his fork. “My dad…he found someone else. And my mum…she pretended not to see me.”

Midorima is left speechless by the confession. It turns out there are many callous ways someone can treat their family.

“They seemed pretty content with their lives you know? So I didn’t want to bother them,” Takao continues. “Besides, they still keep this house running so at least I have a roof over my head.”

It amazes and angers Midorima that Takao is still able to make excuses for them.

“You shouldn’t…” he begins, voice trailing off and eyebrows knitting together.

“Shin-chan?”

“You shouldn’t find excuses for them,” he grits out, staring intently at Takao. “You should be angry, you should be resentful. How can you not be, when they’ve basically abandoned you?”

Takao’s eyes widen slightly. He had come to terms with it, but having someone say it out loud was like a prick of a cicatrix. When Takao’s eyes lower, Midorima wants to smack himself for running his mouth.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Takao assures, smiling sombrely at him. “I used to be.”

“Huh?”

“I used to be angry and I used to be resentful,” he admits. “And I wondered what I did wrong that my own parents didn’t even want me. I thought the worst about myself for a while, until I realized that the problem didn’t lie with me. I was a good kid and I was just unfortunate enough to be placed in these circumstances. If it’s not my fault, why should I be angry? And why should I let other people make fun of me right? So I decided that my circumstances shouldn’t dictate how I feel. People who enjoy life are winners after all!”

“You’re…really amazing,” Midorima whispers, slightly wide-eyed. Takao’s perseverance and optimism will never fail to impress him.

“Nah, I’m not,” Takao chuckles dismissively. “I’m barely passing my tests.”

“No, you are,” Midorima insists. “And it has nothing to do with your grades.”

The impulsive but earnest assertion makes Takao blink his eyes at him in surprise. Then he laughs, loud and carefree, the way Midorima is well-acquainted with.

“W-What?”

“Nothing! You’re just really cute,” Takao tells him with a joyous smile this time.

“Don’t call me cute.”

“Hey Shin-chan,” he calls and Midorima looks at him. “Thank you. For getting me cake. And just being here. You helped me out a lot too you know? Just by being here.”

“Don’t say such embarrassing things,” he murmurs and covers his blushing face behind his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! In the next chapter, a new character will be introduced ;) Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Please enjoy this chapter, a new character (actually two) is introduced ;)

Exams and summer vacation pass by rather uneventfully. Predictably, Midorima aces his exams despite missing the last week of classes. Takao manages to maintain his score, which made him more than satisfied because of the meagre amount of effort he invested in them.

During the holidays, he spends most of his time working as many shifts as he can, until Kasamatsu tells him to go out and have fun for crying out loud. He does, by participating in the streetball games with the rest and dragging Kasamatsu with him. As it turns out, Kasamatsu recognizes his junior, Kise, and immediately blanches, much to the blonde’s displeasure.

While those were fun, it provided a different type of respite from study sessions with Midorima. The green-haired male had asked him to accompany him on weekly study sessions in the nearby library, or sometimes in his lavish house, where Midorima Kiyoko would prepare delicious meals for them if she didn’t have to be at the hospital.

Takao also meets the head of the Midorima household when he stays for dinner and he tried to find a balance between feeling awed and feeling intimidated by the man. Awed because he was tall, taller than Shin-chan good lord, and because he was undeniably and incredibly good-looking. He was an older version of Shin-chan after all. Intimidated because…well because he was tall, and also because of the aura of austerity he exudes. Midorima Shinichi was a cardiologist, a renowned one apparently, and Kiyoko was a paediatrician, which made Takao wonder if Shin-chan wanted to be a doctor to follow his parents’ footsteps.

Midorima’s father treated Takao professionally, and Takao had to remind himself to switch to _keigo_ all the time. He asked him about his major, about the note-taking thing, about his work. Takao’s glad he didn’t ask about his family.

Midorima Shizuka, who was ten years younger than Shin-chan, was an absolute treasure. She also had green hair and greener eyes and she liked to wear her hair in pigtails. Because Takao was naturally good with children, he got along well with the youngest of the Midorima household. In fact, he would say he got along well with the whole household. As he spent time in their beautiful house, Takao allowed himself to feel as if he had a real family.

In October, fall semester begins and Midorima makes a significant decision.

“Takao, I’m thinking of learning sign language,” he tells him one afternoon as they’re having lunch on the roof.

“Really?! That’s great isn’t it!”

“I suppose it’s beneficial.”

“Why the sudden decision?”

“I thought it would be useful if I learned sign language in addition to lip-reading,” Midorima says. “And I’d be able to communicate with people like me using a common language as well.”

“Where are you going to learn it then? At a school?”

“They have a sign language club here, so I was thinking of joining that.”

“That’s good Shin-chan, I’ll support you!” Takao tells him, putting up a thumbs-up. “Let’s do our best this semester too!”

* * *

It’s been two weeks since Midorima started attending the sign language club. Club activities took place in the late afternoon after most classes, and Takao was still working at the food retailer, so they don’t get as many opportunities to go home together anymore. Takao didn’t think much about it, since Midorima seemed to be enjoying himself and Takao was happy for him. He had his own job to take care of anyway.

Today was of the rare occurrence that their schedules synced up. Midorima was attending the club and Takao stayed a little late in school for a group assignment and since it was his off-day, he decided to wait a bit for Midorima to finish club activities and head home together.

The sky was already dark by the time the medical student showed up in front of the north library where Takao was already waiting. Being the thoughtful friend he is, Takao offered to meet where Midorima had his club activities since he had time. He didn’t expect Midorima to be accompanied by a well-dressed, red-haired individual.

“Takao,” Midorima begins, then gestures to the shorter, refined-looking young man. “This is Akashi Seijuuro. I met him in the sign language club.”

“Hello,” he greets, and Takao notices how smooth his voice sounded. He mildly registers the contrast of this situation. A while ago, he was the one who did the introductions. Now, Midorima had his own friends to introduce. To his surprise, Takao found it slightly unsettling and he couldn’t put a finger as to why. “You must be Takao Kazunari, Midorima’s note-taker?”

“Yeah that’s me,” Takao answers while keeping his tone casual, then tries to make small talk. “So you’re a first-year too?”

Akashi blinks at him before replying, as if he realized something.

“Yes, I’m in the business faculty,” he starts, and faces Midorima. “Now I know why you say he’s different.”

Takao darts his eyes towards each of them, a quizzical expression settling on his features. While he’s curious about what Akashi meant, he’s also a little thrilled that Midorima has talked about him. Midorima doesn’t answer, only looks away in embarrassment while pushing up his glasses.

“People usually point out our hearing disability,” Akashi explains. “Enquiring about it unnecessarily, especially when they know we’re in the sign language club.”

“Oh…” Takao mutters and scrunches his nose. “That’s not a very good conversation starter.”

Akashi laughs lightly. It sounded cultured to Takao’s ears. “No, it’s not.”

Takao’s about to ask if he was going to join them on the way home, a small part of him hoping the answer would be ‘no’, when Akashi’s name was hollered from behind.

He turns around to see a brown-haired male jogging towards them, clutching the strap of his bag and panting as he approached.

“Furihata?”

“Furihata?”

Akashi and Takao face each other in surprise, having called out the breathless boy’s name simultaneously. The boy in question looks up and raises his eyebrows in recognition.

“Takao? What are you doing here?”

“Was waiting for my friend,” Takao replies, eyes flickering over to Midorima.

“Are you two well-acquainted?” Akashi asks, curiosity lacing his velvety voice.

“Furihata’s in my course,” Takao informs. “We’re even in a couple of classes together. What about you?”

“Furihata’s my note-taker.”

“Really?! What a small world!” Takao exclaims, finding this whole situation rather amusing now. “You didn’t mention anything about being a note-taker Furi!”

“You didn’t as well, Takao…”

Takao nods his head. “True.”

Furihata launches into a series of questions regarding an ongoing assignment of theirs, which appears to be pretty urgent and major considering the waves of anxiety he was exuding and the way he cleanly forgot about what he called Akashi for. Midorima watches them in amusement, but of course does not show any outward signs of it. To think Takao’s fellow classmate was his new friend’s note-taker. It’s a small world indeed.

Akashi taps his elbow and lifts his hands.

 _“It seems our note-takers are getting along well,”_ he signs.

 _“Yes, it’s a little funny,”_ Midorima signs back, though much slower than Akashi.

Takao notices the two of them signing to each other as Furihata breathes a sigh of relief over Takao’s helpful advice. But he isn’t really paying much attention to the now ranting boy. Takao’s more occupied with the way Midorima has supposedly signed incorrectly, and how Akashi is remedying it by taking Midorima’s hands into his own and showing him how it’s supposed to be done.

The raven-haired student expects Midorima to pull his hands away. Someone who felt like a fish out of water in social situations shouldn’t be comfortable with such close physical contact after all. But Takao is in for another surprise when Midorima doesn’t withdraw but allows his fingers to bend to Akashi’s instructions, green eyes focused on getting it right. Akashi nods his approval when he does and turns his attention back to his note-taker, meeting Takao’s eyes for a fraction of a second.

“Furihata.”

“Ah! Yes!” he jumps, suddenly self-conscious about rambling.

“Did you bring the notes?”

Furihata pauses and for a few seconds, there was nothing but silence among the four friends. Quietly, he mutters, “I knew there was something I forgot.” He claps his hands together apologetically and continues, “I must have left it in my dorm! I’ll go get it, just wait here!”

“No, it’s alright,” Akashi tells him before he can run off. “I’ll go with you.”

“Are you sure? My dorm’s not exactly near.”

“Yes. It’d be nice to take a walk.”

“O-Okay.”

They say their goodbyes and while Akashi and Furihata head to the dorms, Midorima and Takao walk towards the campus’ exit. The commute home is fairly quiet; the two friends have long been at ease with the silence that settles between them. Without realizing it, they’re already walking along the train tracks, the railroad crossing a fair distance away.

Takao’s quietness did not stem so much from having a lack of topics to converse about, but more from being preoccupied with the interaction he witnessed between Midorima and Akashi. The crimson-haired business student evoked in Takao a disconcerting emotion from the moment he laid eyes on his well-groomed hair, fashionable clothes, and the sophisticated way he carried himself. Takao wouldn’t be surprised to know if he hailed from a well-to-do family like Midorima, had a chauffeur, and was taking a double degree.

Don’t get him wrong, Takao got along well with everybody and anybody. But there were just some people who made him wary and guarded. Akashi happened to fall into that category and for the life of him, Takao couldn’t figure out exactly why. Perhaps the stark contrast in their personalities and status intimidated him? (Then again, he got along just fine with Midorima.) Or perhaps it was the way he looked into his eyes like he knew all of Takao’s secrets? Or maybe it was how he walked alongside Midorima, so natural and fitting when it was he who took that place before.

They looked like they complemented each other. Just from the short interaction with Akashi, he could tell he and Midorima was of the same type. They both carried themselves in similar ways; they behaved in a way befitting of people who came from affluent families, they were cultured, formal, and respectable. Takao thought they suited each other.

He tried not to dwell on that and chose to focus on how well Midorima seems to be assimilating in the club. He was happy for him, that’s for certain. He made a friend so quickly and even appeared to be comfortable with him. He had looked so serious and earnest when he was correcting his mistake, with lines on his forehead and mouth set in a thin line. Takao decides to tease him about it because that’s all he knows.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Takao points out, giving Midorima a sideways glance.

“Why do you say that?” the taller one asks.

“You’re attending club activities diligently, learning the language seriously, and you even made a _friend_ ,” Takao replies, the last word ending in a sing-song voice.

“It’s better than I thought,” Midorima admits, deliberately ignoring the teasing tone in Takao’s voice. “The people are sincere and helpful.”

“Like Akashi?” Takao questions, not really intending to say that out loud at all.

“Well yes,” Midorima answers, considering the question thoughtfully. “Akashi joined the club since the first semester and being a freshman like me, he offered to guide me.”

“That’s awfully nice of him. You must be pleased.”

Midorima tilts his head to the side in puzzlement. He was indeed grateful to have a helping hand, but he wonders why Takao pointed it out like that. Like there was something hidden between the words he uttered.

“He looks like he’s your type,” Takao blurts.

“Nonsense,” Midorima is quick to say, finding the statement downright ridiculous. “He’s just an acquaintance.”

“Really? Aren’t you smitten with him?” Takao probes, his tone turning sly and eyes harbouring a devious glint. “Don’t you think it’s easy to be when he’s sophisticated, refined, and well-mannered? And that’s what I got from that few minutes with him.”

Midorima admits that Akashi does have those traits, but he never thought about him that way. It was difficult to, when his eyes search for a pair of silver blue ones, when his mind is filled with thoughts about a strong-willed boy, and when his heart longs for the person walking beside him now, aching with the knowledge that all he can do is yearn.

“You’re mistaken,” he says softly.

“That so?” Takao asks rhetorically. “What _is_ your type anyway?”

“I don’t…I don’t particularly have one,” he answers hesitantly. It wasn’t a lie because he honestly didn’t have a type, he only had a person in mind. “But it’s not Akashi,” he makes sure to add.

“Hmm,” Takao hums, mulling over something. “I guess it’s a good thing too.”

Midorima’s eyes widen and turn hopeful.

“You two are similar and sometimes, being too similar may not be a good thing,” he continues. “Maybe you need someone to balance you out.”

Midorima’s face falls and he chastises himself for getting his hopes up.

“Yeah, maybe,” he agrees quietly.

Takao doesn’t seem to notice his change in mood and pipes, “You know what’s my type?” Without waiting for a reply, he offers, “It’s someone who’s funny but not as funny as me, fiercely loyal, someone who puts in their all and doesn’t stop trying, someone I want to protect but whom I can rely on too.”

Midorima smiles faintly at Takao, glad that he cannot see him because he won’t know how to explain that his forlorn gaze stems from the desire to be that someone but only having the ability to simply watch from afar.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone like that,” he says in a whisper that is lost in the night breeze.

Takao turns to him, head cocked to the side. “Hm? What did you say?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head.

“Well, this is me,” Takao says and stops at the railroad crossing. Midorima hadn’t realized they reached it so soon. He wanted to spend more time with Takao, walk him home so they didn’t have to part ways at the crossing. Because even if it’s an unrequited love, he wants to hold on to it.

But Takao’s already waving his farewell, telling him, “Bye Shin-chan, see you tomorrow!” before Midorima can initiate anything. He watches him jog across the railroad crossing, breaking out in a run when the crossing bell blares noisily, warning pedestrians that the train was arriving. As the bell resounds above them and the barriers start to descend, blocking his path, Midorima tells himself that just because he longs for something he cannot have, it doesn’t mean he needs to bottle it inside his heart.

When Takao is safely on the other side of the crossing, Midorima calls out to him above the noise.

“Takao.”

The boy turns around and faces Midorima with curiosity, slate blue eyes bright in the dark night.

Midorima is mildly aware of the approaching train as the headlights cast long shadows on the road and the rhythmic sound of its wheels grow louder with every metre it covers. With a heavy heart, he puts up his thumb and forefinger, forming a V-shape just under his chin with the back of his palm facing Takao. He notes the way Takao parts his lips, eyes glowing with innocent inquisitiveness. The incoming train is getting louder and it creates static in his hearing aid. He presses his thumb and forefinger together and lowers it to his chest, forming the shape of a teardrop in front of his heart.

Midorima doesn’t get to see Takao’s reaction, because the train whizzes between them, cutting them off like a reel of film being stopped in the middle of a movie. Takao can only see the blur of the metal carriages that zoom past him and the flashes of light interspersed among scenes of grey. He finds himself walking in the opposite direction of the moving train, wanting it to go _faster_ so he can see Midorima and ask him what he means by that.

But by the time the train passes and the crossing bell stops blaring, Midorima is already on his way, walking along the tracks without looking back. The night is peaceful again and Takao is left wondering and confused.

* * *

As the days pass and Takao catches sight of Midorima and Akashi together more often, the unsettling feeling becomes more pronounced. He sees them signing to each other a couple of times and when they communicate in a language Takao doesn’t understand, and which involves Midorima using facial expressions more liberally, it makes them seem like they’re in a world of their own. And Takao feels so out of place. How ironic.

There was something about the way Midorima eases himself into Akashi’s presence like he had done with Takao that leaves him bothered.  He looked so _comfortable_ with Akashi. It wasn’t like Takao didn’t want Midorima to have friends, but their budding relationship was evolving faster than he was comfortable with.

It even took away time with his friend. Whether it was because of the sign language classes or Akashi, Takao finds himself going home with Midorima less and less often. Sometimes, they only see each other during the classes Takao takes notes for and during lunches. The days when they would simply spend time together out of school or leisurely were few and far between. It set Takao in a sulky mood.

Midorima had claimed that Akashi was just an acquaintance, but Takao wouldn’t be surprised if he told him he had come to like the red-haired boy after spending all this time with him. The prospect sends his stomach twisting in knots. By some impulsive decision, which must seem completely random to Midorima, Takao decided to ask him out for ice-cream after one of his sessions, telling him he would wait for him to be finished. Maybe it was impulsive and random, but Takao just wanted to see him.

“Why the sudden decision to treat me to ice-cream?” Midorima asks as they head towards the fountain, a well-known landmark in this park, after purchasing an ice-cream each from the conbini on their way home. Takao had gotten himself chocolate ice-cream and Midorima had predictably chosen the shiruko-flavoured one.

“Just felt like I should after I freeloaded off you for so long,” Takao replies as they sit next to each other on the wide steps circling the fountain.

The autumn chill on an October night was oddly soothing and Takao was thankful his ice-cream didn’t melt as fast.

“You’re not freeloading,” Midorima counters. “You take notes for me remember?”

“It’s supposed to be a volunteer job remember?” Takao points out with a cheeky grin and Midorima purses his lips.

“No but seriously, I thought it’d be nice to just hang out,” he says and wraps his lips around his ice-cream, savouring the sweetness that floods his mouth.

Midorima licks his ice-cream, sweeping the shiruko flavour into his mouth before replying, “It is.”

“Huh?”

“It _is_ nice.”

“Oh.”

They enjoy their ice-creams and each other’s presence in silence for a while, watching the steady gush of water making never-ending ripples in the fountain. It is Midorima who breaks the silence after a while.

“Did you know there was a god who was deaf?”

“Really? Like a deity? In ancient times?” Takao asks.

Midorima smiles at how quickly Takao’s interest is piqued.

“Yes. His name is Ebisu, the first child of Izanagi and Izanami, the gods who created the islands of Japan.”

“How did he become deaf?” Takao presses eagerly, like a child waiting to be told a bedtime story. He scoots closer to Midorima, their shoulders bare centimetres apart.

“After Izanagi and Izanami create Japan, they had a marriage ceremony which involved walking around a pillar and greeting each other. By right, Izanagi is supposed to make the greeting first but unfortunately, they broke the ceremony rules when Izanami greeted first. As a result of this transgression, their first child was deformed. He was born without bones or in some stories, without arms and legs, and was deaf.”

Takao makes a face, wrinkling his nose. He seems to be torn between feeling disgusted or sympathetic.

“Izanagi and Izanami cast him away by sending him off in a reed boat before his third birthday,” Midorima continues and Takao frowns at that, feeling sympathetic after all. “However, he overcame many hardships, managed to grow legs and bones, and became the god of fishermen and luck. Although he was still slightly crippled and deaf, he was cheerful regardless and is one of the Seven Gods of Fortune.”

“Oh,” Takao says, a little taken aback but relieved. “For a moment I had envisioned the ending of that story very differently.”

“I did that too,” Midorima admits. “When Akashi told me that story, I imagined the ending to be tragic.”

“Oh.”

_Akashi again._

“Come to think of it, Ebisu’s festival in celebrated in this month,” Midorima continues, unaware of Takao’s sudden reticence. “It’s quite amusing; because Ebisu is deaf, he cannot hear the summons and is still available for worship while the other gods gather at The Grand Shrine of Izumo.”

When Takao doesn’t respond, Midorima notices something amiss. He looks to Takao, who’s staring at his hands and playing with his ice-cream stick, having finished the treat while Midorima was narrating the story.

“Takao?”

“Do you like him? Akashi.”

The question comes as a complete and utter shock to Midorima, who blinks at Takao and wonders if he has misheard. But the way the raven-haired boy looks back at him, eyes so earnest and curious, tells him that Takao has said exactly what he had heard.

“No, of course not,” he answers, trying to keep his voice steady. He must not have succeeded because Takao seems almost guilty.

“Sorry, that must have been weird,” he apologizes, then laughs nervously, but it’s a weak attempt at hiding his embarrassment for blurting out something so personal. “It’s just that you’ve been hanging out with him so often and you look so…happy you know? And it’s Akashi, so I thought…”

“Akashi’s a friend,” Midorima reiterates, the need to explain his relationship with Akashi rising. “I realized he’s the same as me. We’ve been through the same experiences, being isolated because of our disability and differences and trying to find our place in this world. We understand each other, that’s why I get along with him naturally. But I’m not… _in love_ with him. You can’t be further from the truth when you thought that.”

“Really?” Takao releases a shaky laugh, hands reaching back to rub his neck sheepishly. “Sorry for asking you something weird.”

“It’s alright,” Midorima tells him honestly, his voice holding a twinge of melancholy at the irony of it all. When Takao asked him if he liked Akashi, it took him every morsel of self-control not to tell him that the one he liked was Takao himself. It is nothing short of exhausting to keep his feelings under wraps, and the moment Takao showed Midorima how oblivious he was, it made him want to say ‘fuck it’ and just make his feelings known, clearly and doubtlessly.

Instead, he remains silent, grappling with himself on the merits of taking chances.

“Is there anyone you like, Shin-chan?” Takao asks suddenly, blissfully unaware that curiosity killed the cat.

Midorima recognizes this as the chance fate throws at him. How can he not, when it is practically dangling in front of his face? So this is the part where he does indeed say ‘fuck it’.

He faces Takao, eyes flickering to his slightly parted lips before looking into his puzzled eyes. It amazes Midorima that all that time yearning for him can be unravelled in one single moment. He leans in, the warmth of their breaths a stark contrast to the cold October air around them. He doesn’t think twice, just lets his body move according to his wishes and presses his lips, softly and chastely, against Takao’s.

The kiss, so gentle and sweet, freezes the blood in Takao’s veins. His eyes widen and he finds himself motionless when Midorima kissed him in lieu of a verbal answer. His mind is going a mile a minute, but the one thing at the top of all his thoughts is how sweet Midorima tastes. Takao can taste the lingering flavour of shiruko on his lips. It is not unpleasant.

The kiss is broken as abruptly as it is started when Midorima jerks back, the weight of his actions dawning on him and sending him into a panic.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why—” he stammers, his own eyes growing wide with horror and mortification behind his glasses.

“It’s okay,” Takao says hastily when he finds his voice. “Um, I was surprised is all.”

“I’m sorry…” he repeats, unable to bring himself to look at Takao in the eye and blushing darkly.

“Really Shin-chan, it’s fine,” he reassures as he tries to keep the situation under control, a light blush tinting his own cheeks.

“I hope…” Midorima starts tentatively. “I hope it doesn’t change anything.”

He knew it was a one-sided love on his part, but a part of him still held on to that glimmer of hope. But now that Takao truly did not seem to return his feelings, it was the final nail in the coffin. It hurt more than he let on, but all he could do now was hope that Takao would still want to stay as friends. He wasn’t greedy, Takao’s friendship would be enough for him.

For now, he just wanted this much.

“Yeah, sure…it won’t,” Takao says but can’t seem to believe it.

Midorima breathes a sigh of relief. It’s going to be one hell of a painful journey to get over this, but he’s going to try. At least he can take comfort knowing that he conveyed his feelings to Takao and can finally find closure to all of this. Anymore grieving and heartache can be taken care of when he’s alone with misery as his only company.

Rejection is a bitch.

* * *

Takao doesn’t remember the walk home. It happened in a daze. It’s only when he’s lying on his futon that he replays the scene in his head. He recalls bits and pieces of what happened. The air was chilly, the ice-cream was delightful, and oh, Shin-chan’s lips were tender.

The whole thing had been unreal, but what was more surreal was that he didn’t hate it. In fact, it made his stomach flutter and his heart thump against his ribcage like he was getting his first kiss. Thinking about it now heated his face and got him flustered all over again.

Shin-chan had kissed him and he kind of…liked it.

Which is completely ridiculous because they were just friends…right?

I mean, Midorima didn’t explicitly say he was the one he liked. He just kissed him without any warning and yes, it could have been the physical demonstration of a verbal answer, but what if it was some warped joke Midorima was playing?

No, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t toy with his feelings or trivialise the matter. So what is the truth?

Takao folds his pillow onto his face and groans in frustration. Why did Shin-chan have to do these things and confuse him? There was even the signing incident at the railroad crossing. What was that about?

Takao bolts upright, eyebrows raised and mouth hanging open when the recollection hits him. He had forgotten about it when he reached home that day, but he meant to ask Midorima about it. It doesn’t seem like a viable option now, so Takao scrambles around for his phone and turns to the Internet for some answers.

It took a lot of scouring to finally figure out what the signs Midorima formed meant. A V-shape created with the thumb and forefinger, which are then brought together at the pads to form a teardrop. Takao only found the answer when he chanced upon a video titled, “Expressions of Love”. The lady in the video signed the exact same thing Takao saw that day at the railroad crossing, just before the arriving train interrupted them.

He is sent into a flurry, his heart beating fast and a blush colouring his cheeks, when he watches the lady in the video repeat the action and reads the subtitles.

The answer, in unmistakable captions, read: _“I like you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys will figure something out...let me know what you think in the comments! Till next time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

It takes Takao a while to sort his feelings out, mainly because he cannot seem to resolve the internal conflict raging inside him. Midorima stirred something within him, it was foreign and Takao can’t put a finger to it. Amidst all the confusion trying to make sense of it, Takao’s still able to act normally around Midorima, staying chirpy and pretending it didn’t happen, for which Midorima is enormously grateful for.

He wouldn’t know if he could keep his façade up if Takao started acting strange around him. The day he kissed Takao, he went home with his heart breaking into tiny pieces. Takao was the first person he ever felt this way towards. He was markedly different from him yet, he managed to feel so at home.

He had no idea he would meet someone like Takao, who drew him out of a dark place and showed him that life had so much to offer and so many things to enjoy. He didn’t know he would fall in love with him and he couldn’t help hoping that they could be something more. Now that that’s a bust, Midorima knows he probably won’t ever get over it fully, and has to make a conscious decision to stop hoping. Which is why he’s glad Takao is pretending the kiss didn’t happen. It makes all this a little bit easier.

But pretence and denial are never a sustainable solution. Acceptance is. And for Takao, it came in the form of an epiphany in the simplest of moments.

The library is never Takao’s favourite place; he had to be so quiet and still, and he had to _study_. But when Midorima told him he wanted to get a bit of studying done in the library before his next class, Takao offered to accompany him without thinking twice. It startled Midorima initially, but he allowed Takao to do so, warning him not to “pull anything funny” when they’re in the library.

They meet Kuroko in the library, and Takao finds out that the blue-eyed boy has been working there since the middle of last semester and Midorima has even chatted with him on a few occasions. Midorima leads Takao to one of the upper floors, where the medical books were shelved and unpacks his belongings at a table beside the window. Apparently, it’s his usual (and favourite) spot because it’s secluded, there’s ample sunlight, and when he’s getting sleepy, he can look out the window and watch the students on the field.

Takao watches Midorima settle himself comfortably beside the large window, his green eyes looking out for a brief moment before returning to his notes. Takao follows suit, taking out his assignment and laying it on the table but not really in the mood to complete it. However, Midorima’s concentration must have spilled over to him because he starts writing and in a few minutes, has scribbled out a paragraph.

But Takao is by no means a still worker. Usually, he walks around the room or brews himself some tea, but since he cannot do that here, he resorts to talking. And Midorima looks like he could use a break. He’s way too engrossed in his work.

“Shin-chan,” Takao calls, not really lowering his voice as they’re the only ones here. “You’re going to get permanent lines in your forehead if you keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” Midorima asks, doing exactly that.

“This!” Takao says, mimicking Midorima’s expression by drawing his eyebrows together and making the best ‘serious face’ he can muster.

“It’s a difficult topic,” Midorima answers defensively, averting his eyes because Takao actually looks adorable imitating him.

“Shin-chan thinks schoolwork is difficult?” Takao asks in mock disbelief, chuckling when Midorima shoots him a pointed look.

“I’ll have you know it’s a second-year module,” Midorima informs him.

“Oh! I get that feeling,” Takao says, expression changing instantly to one of understanding. “Remember I took that elective meant for second-years last semester? I did that again.”

“Why would you do that again?” Midorima asks curiously. Even though Takao claimed he understood the feeling of taking a more difficult module, he didn’t seem to regret doing it again.

Takao shrugs. “I didn’t manage to register for a module that I wanted, so I substituted it with a second-year one. Besides, I’m in the same class as the senpai, so it’s not so bad.”

He grins at Midorima, genuinely glad to be with his seniors again. “But they weren’t so happy to see me though.”

The medical student tilts his head to the side questioningly and Takao explains, “I guess they didn’t expect to see me turn up for a class mostly made up of second-years. Oh god, you should have seen their faces. They were so shocked!”

“You do have a knack for surprising people.”

“But they hit me!” he pouts.

“You’re exaggerating,” Midorima says, pressing his lips together so he can keep himself from smiling at Takao’s animated words and expressions.

“No, really! I went to sit with them, expecting a warm welcome,” Takao goes on. “But they just demanded, ‘What are you doing here?!’ So I told them I—it was a joke—that I wanted to be in the same class with them and they karate-chopped me on the head.

Like this!” Takao finishes, stretching out his hand and sticking his fingers together, then swinging them down alternatingly three times, one for each hit he got from the seniors.

The scene is comical to Midorima and Takao has this sort of childish, innocent look on his face. Without realizing it, his eyes are crinkling at the edges and he’s laughing, the kind Takao’s never heard from him before. It’s light and carefree, the sound coming out in sonorous laughter. His emerald eyes are hidden behind lens and lashes, his hair falling over them as he lowers his head and covers his smiling mouth. Midorima Shintarou is beautiful, and it snatches the air from Takao’s lungs.

Takao can only stare in awe at the rare sight in front of him. His slate blue eyes widen and his heart palpitates as the final piece of the puzzle falls into place. All the emotions he felt when he was with Midorima, when he saw him with Akashi, when he was just by his side seemed so clear now. He could finally tell himself what the reason for those emotions were. It was like the fog is lifted.

He was in love with him.

When was it? When was the moment that he fell in love with the person before him?

Was it when he kissed him, lips tasting like shiruko? Or was it when he saw him signing with Akashi? Or had it been that night when he confronted him? Maybe it was during the summer festival, or all the times they were on the roof. Or maybe it was way before all this, when he tumbled down the hill and met the greenest eyes he ever saw. Takao isn’t sure if it happened in a single moment, or if it happened in every moment. But he’s finally clear on one thing.

“I like you.”

Takao swears he can hear his heart pounding in his chest as silence blankets the library again and Midorima looks up, eyes swimming with shock. He stares intently and searchingly at Takao, who feels like his soul is being bared.

“What?” he whispers.

Takao sucks in a breath before repeating, just as softly but no less true, “I like you.”

“No you don’t.”

The declaration is uttered in a way that tells Takao Midorima honestly believes what he said is the truth, and it alarms and confuses him at the same time. By now, Midorima’s eyes are serious, his mouth is unsmiling and his forehead is creasing again.

“Huh?”

“You don’t like me,” Midorima says with misplaced conviction.

Takao doesn’t know where this is coming from, but he can finally put a name to the feeling consuming him for the longest time and he isn’t about to let Midorima tell him otherwise.

“Um, yes I do,” he insists, his frown deepening.

“You don’t!”

“I do like you! Why do you keep saying I don’t?!”

“Because you’re never serious!”

Takao is left speechless by the outburst. He never knew his carefree disposition would work against him now.

“You’re always joking around…” he adds, voice lowered in embarrassment.

Takao sort of understands why Midorima would say that. It was true he jokes around a lot and doesn’t seem to take things as seriously as most people. But this was different damn it. This was _Shin-chan_ , and it was something he never knew he wanted until recently. There’s no way he would joke about something like that. And he would see to it that Midorima comprehends that clearly.

“I’m not joking around now,” Takao begins, surprising himself with the calmness he exudes. “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. That day when you…kissed me, it surprised and confused me. I thought I treated you as a friend, but I realized that if I did, I wouldn’t have wanted to spend so much time with you, or got jealous over Akashi, or liked the kiss, or felt so happy when I’m with you. So I’m serious okay? Cross my heart.”

Midorima hangs on to every word, a maddening blush spreading across his cheeks at Takao’s sincere confession. He covers his mouth with the back of his hand, shielding his trembling lips from Takao’s keen eyes. Hearing those words removed the burden of having to get over the rejection and the painful act of pining for his friend, in fact, it made his heart soar. He allowed himself to hope again.

“You idiot…” he murmurs, his blush reaching to the tips of his ears. He can’t believe the oblivious boy before him caused him so much unnecessary suffering.

Takao’s eyes soften and he gazes affectionately at the embarrassed Midorima. He was infinitely glad he saw the light, because he knows he would have been giving up something precious. Daring himself to make a move, Takao reaches his hand out and touches Midorima’s fingers gently. The touch is tentative, and it sends shivers up his arm.

“I am, aren’t I?” he smiles.

“Can you…” Midorima starts. “Can you say it again? I’m not sure if I heard you correctly.”

His voice is shy and barely above a whisper and Takao’s heart warms at the innocent request. He would say it ten times over, a hundred times over, a thousand times over for the boy who stole his heart.

“I like you, Shin-chan,” he tells him.

Midorima allows himself the privilege of savouring this moment, where the afternoon sunlight is pouring in but the only warmth he feels is from the burn in his cheeks and Takao’s smile.

“I like you too, idiot.”

Takao chuckles and curls his fingers into Midorima’s.

“Hey,” he says tentatively, a faint blush dusting his own cheeks. “About the kiss…can we try that again? I kinda screwed up the first time.”

Midorima swears he cannot get any more flushed than this. His nervous nod is the complete opposite from the anticipation rising inside him. Takao’s heart skips a beat at Midorima’s consent and he stands from his seat slowly, reaching out to Midorima. He’s really glad he chose to follow him to the library today.

Takao leans in, eyes darting down to Midorima’s for a second as Midorima tilts his head up. Takao closes his eyes and kisses him slowly and deliberately, revelling in the mere touch of lips and showing him just how much he meant those words. It’s so much better than the first time, Takao thinks, when he’s fully aware of what is happening.

When they part, the smiles on each other’s faces are the most blissful they’ve seen.

* * *

“Oi, Takao,” Miyaji calls but it does not catch the junior’s attention. “Class ended like five minutes ago. What are you smiling like a fool at your phone for?”

“Huh? It’s over?” Takao asks in a happy daze. “Awesome!”

He starts packing his belongings hurriedly until Miyaji flicks him in the forehead and asks, “I said, what are you smiling like a fool at your phone for?”

“Texting your girlfriend?” Kimura quips and waggles his eyebrows at Takao.

The suggestion sends Takao flushing but he’s too elated about his new relationship with Shin-chan to deny it was something romantic.

“Not girlfriend…” he says vaguely. “Just Shin-chan.”

“Then why are you blushing like a high-school girl?” Miyaji demands.

Takao slants his eyes away. Ootsubo, Miyaji, and Kimura watch him in bewilderment, waiting for him to answer and wondering why there’s tension brewing in the room. Takao’s reaction is very strange indeed, he’s acting all cryptic as if—

“HAH! I knew it!” Kimura shouts, startling Takao. But instead of focusing his attention on Takao, he faces Miyaji and barks, “Pay up Miyaji!”

He stretches an opened palm to him, making a ‘pay up’ gesture as Miyaji groans, but reaches into his pocket anyway. Ootsubo rolls his eyes at them.

“Ignore them Takao.”

“What’s going on?”

“You’re dating Midorima right?” Ootsubo inquires.

Miyaji clutches the 1000 yen note in his hand, unwilling to relinquish until a concrete answer is provided.

“Yes…” Takao answers in apprehension.

The verdict is out and Miyaji begrudgingly hands the note to Kimura, who’s wearing a smug expression.

“You guys bet on my relationship status?!” Takao cries out.

“Not just your relationship status,” Kimura says. “Your relationship status specifically with Midorima.”

“And you bet that we wouldn’t get together???” Takao directs the question at Miyaji.

“No idiot,” he says gruffly. “Our bet centered around you and Midorima getting together _before_ the end of the academic year. Kimura here, the smug bastard, bet that you guys would. I bet that you won’t because I thought Midorima was too shy to make a move and you’re dumb as a rock.”

“I figured it out in the end okay?” Takao says defensively. “Why would you guys even bet on this?”

“Because it’s so obvious?” Kimura offers, as if even an idiot could tell. “Because your face practically lights up when you’re with him and it’s not even about the lunches? Because he puts up with you in a way that is clearly not platonic?”

“Because he looks at you like he wants to protect you and you look at him like he’s your world?”

All three of them look at the person responsible for uttering such sappy words, which turns out to be Ootsubo, in a mixture of frowns, judgmental glances, and one reddening face.

“What?”

“Anyway,” Miyaji continues. “We’ve seen you guys during the streetball matches and more, it gave us toothaches.”

“See Miyaji?” Kimura says, the satisfied smirk returning to his face. “One good thing about losing the bet is that we don’t have to watch them pine for each other anymore.”

“Shut up,” Miyaji mumbles. “And I swear to god, if you two start acting lovey-dovey like a bunch of teenagers, I’m gonna run the both of you over.”

“Miyaji-senpai, you’re too scary…”

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Ootsubo points out, nodding his head towards the door.

Midorima stands there, looking into the classroom in search for a certain raven-haired communications student and finding him in no time since there wasn’t anyone else besides the four. He notices the seniors with Takao and nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Senpai,” he addresses and they return his greeting. “Takao, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah!” Takao says and slings his bag over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow senpai! Great talk!”

Takao bounds over to Midorima and the seniors watch as they make their way down the corridor. Takao appears to say something, grinning up at Midorima, and the taller of the two graces him with a faint smile. They look so innocently in love.

“We have to protect them,” Miyaji points out.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

* * *

Being in love with Shin-chan is great. Takao feels like he’s on cloud nine all the time. It is absolutely liberating to know what he was missing and finally having it in his grasp. Takao could safely say they were on the same page, they were boyfriends now and he made sure to highlight this clearly to Midorima, who simply pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded, all shy and red-faced.

They hadn’t gone too far; only kisses and holding hands. But that was enough to make their hearts pound against their chest and hands sweaty. There is no need to rush anyway, they had all the time in the world.

It was weird too; Takao’s not really sure how they should go about with this new business (it’s been a long time since he was in a relationship but it doesn’t even matter because Shin-chan is so unique nothing could prepare Takao for this), but he knows they’ll be okay if they have each other.

So Takao is pretty confident, and he thought life was going smoothly for him, until the second week of November heralded a news that would plunge him back to reality.

Takao hums as he jingles the house keys in his hands, looking forward to a hot shower but definitely not the assignment he has to submit soon. The night is still young, maybe he could catch up to the latest manga chapters if he finishes his work fast. It’s not until he exits the lift and walks to his door that he spots two familiar figures standing there, one of them seemingly fumbling for something in her purse.

“Mum? Dad?” Takao calls out, incredulity lacing his voice.

When Takao has overcome his initial astonishment and lets them in, he doesn’t beat around the bush.

“So uh, what are you guys doing here?”

“Before that, Kazunari,” his mother starts. “How have you been?”

Takao holds back a scoff; he’s got a feeling she’s only asking to stall for time. He humours her anyway. “I’ve been good. Just started my second semester in university. I’m studying communications, in case you guys are wondering.”

“That’s good,” she praises out of obligation and his father nods his head in agreement.

“So what are you here for?” he repeats, apprehension building.

Their eyes meet for a brief moment, as if grappling who should spill the news because both of them are reluctant to be burdened with that responsibility. Eventually, his father sighs. “We’ve decided to get a divorce.”

“Okay...” Takao trails off. He isn’t the least bit fazed, he had known their divorce was only a matter of time. But they looked too grave to be announcing something as inevitable as a divorce. So he waits for one of them to continue.

It is his mother who does.

“We’re going to sell the house.”

There it is.

“Wait what?” Takao blurts, worry inching into his voice. If they sell the house, where’s he going to live? “What’s going to happen to me?”

“You can stay on campus,” his mother suggests. “Don’t university students these days want to experience campus life?”

“I would, if I had the money,” Takao snaps. Why would he willingly subject himself to such a lonely lifestyle if he could help it after all? But on-campus housing wasn’t cheap and there’s no way he could afford the rent. Didn’t they understand that?

“You’re working right?” she asks hopefully, as if her entire argument is built on the premise that he’s working and can afford shit.

“Well yes, but—”

“Then it should be fine!” she interjects and Takao finds himself faltering. “You can use your earnings to pay for the rent. I’m sure there are different tiers you can choose from.”

That’s true, but it wasn’t the point. How could they take away the one thing that they left him with? And so suddenly? It didn’t matter (not anymore) that they stopped showing up in his life, that they forgot about him, that they didn’t care. But this house was the last responsibility they had, the only redemption Takao allowed, and now they even wanted to discard that?

Takao never understood why he was treated this way.

With the fringe covering his dark eyes and nails digging into his jeans, Takao asks in a small voice, “Why?”

There’s a pregnant pause in the barren house before his mother speaks, “Oh Kazunari, you’re always so dramatic. We can’t keep his house forever.”

“We have our own families— _“What about me?” Takao wants to ask. “Aren’t I your family too?”_ —and we need to move on,” his father adds. “It’s better for all of us this way.”

Takao lifts his head and looks at them, really looks at them. They look like they’ve been well. His father was dressed smartly in a business casual attire, and his shoes are shiny. His mother is wearing her hair up, a jewelled accessory holding her hairstyle in place. She looks as young as ever. And here he is, with the same pullover he’s been wearing for the past few years, in the same goddamn house he was left in. While life seemed to have treated them well, he was here scrimping and saving just to get by.

“No it’s not,” he grits out, worry and distress melting into anger. “It’s only better for you. You’ve never even spared a thought for me.”

He looks at them darkly, years of suppressed resentment swimming in his slate blue eyes.

“We know this is going to be difficult,” his mother sighs. “But it’s not as if we’re asking you to move out immediately. The papers will only be finalised by next month. And if you want, we can send you some money to tide over—”

“I don’t want it,” he spits out.

He wants to direct all his rage and frustration at them but he cannot find the energy to do so. He’s tired. He’s tired of dealing with their irresponsible parenting, he’s tired of always wondering if they’re ever going to come back and if they’ll ever be a family again. He’s tired of being a loose end.

“I get it,” Takao breathes out, looking at them dispassionately. “I’ll move out by next month. It’s getting late. Can you please leave? I have homework to do.”

When Takao’s finally alone, he leans against the door and slumps to the floor, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

In the fall of his first year in university, Takao finds himself homeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter made you guys say "finally!!" And just when you thought all was well huh...nope. Not yet. There's only a few more chapters left, stay with me!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, my hand slipped :P Anyway guys, this is like the second last chapter!! There's a chapter 10, but it's only an epilogue that can be read separately from the story. Thanks for sticking around!

“Shin-chan?” Takao says into his phone, too drained by the night’s events to feel any strong emotions. “I’m going to be homeless.”

 _“What? Why?”_ he hears his voice of concern through the receiver.

“My parents came by,” he explains with a sigh. “They said they’re getting a divorce, and that they’re going to sell the house.”

Takao rubs a hand over his tired face and waits for Midorima to answer, but the line is silent.

“Shin—”

 _“Pack your stuff,”_ Midorima says abruptly. _“Just some clothes and the essentials. Then meet me at the railroad crossing.”_

“Huh? Now?” Takao questions, growing flustered over the sudden string of commands. What was Shin-chan trying to do?

 _“Yes, now. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes,”_ he says and hangs up.

Takao stares at his phone in bewilderment, as if boring his eyes into the device would give him some answers. Midorima’s instruction was odd but if it meant Takao didn’t have to stay another minute in this desolate house, then he’d follow it.

Getting up, Takao packs his bag in a rush and throws in whatever essentials he can think of, some clothes, towel, toothbrush…and doesn’t spare the house a second glance when he switches off the lights and leaves.

Takao arrives at the railroad crossing faster than Midorima, having practically ran all the way there. But he didn’t wait long, for Midorima comes jogging up to him in a beige cardigan and a pair of chinos, his hair a little tousled by the wind.

“Hey, Shin-chan—” Takao starts.

“Are you okay?” Midorima asks worriedly, mouth turning into a frown.

“Yeah I’m fine,” he answers, heart instantly warming in Midorima’s presence.

“Did you pack your stuff?”

“Yeah, right here,” he says, holding up the duffel bag.

“Good, let’s go.”

“Shin-chan?” Takao calls instead of moving, his eyes searching for an explanation.

Midorima gazes down at Takao, realizing how all of this must be going too fast for him. His eyes soften and he says in a soothing voice, “You don’t have to stay there anymore. Stay at my place. We have plenty of room.”

“I don’t know…” he trails, wondering if this is a good idea after all. What would Midorima’s parents say? And how could he impose for who knows how long?

“Please,” Midorima insists, taking Takao’s cold hand into his. “I want to…protect you. Stay with me, at least for now.”

Takao can’t find the heart nor the desire to refuse, so he nods his head wordlessly and lets Midorima lead him by the hand.

“Oh, Kazunari-kun!” Midorima Kiyoko greets cheerily when Shin-chan brings him through the double doors. “Shintarou said you’ll be staying over at our place.”

“Sorry for the intrusion…” he says and bows politely.

“Not at all, make yourself at home,” she smiles.

“Takao, why don’t you take a seat first,” Midorima tells him. “I need to…have a word with my parents.”

Takao nods understandingly and does so, wondering if the youngest Midorima is already in her room, sound asleep. He fiddles with the strap of his duffel bag and settles comfortably on the couch. He’s only been here less than a dozen times but it already feels so much more of a home than his own house.

When the three Midorimas re-enter the spacious living room, Takao stands as Shin-chan’s mother approaches him, catching him off-guard when she engulfs him in a hug.

“Mother…” Midorima says in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, withdrawing but squeezing Takao’s arms affectionately. “Shintarou told us…I’m just appalled at the actions of some people. Oh I’m sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear all this anymore.”

“It’s okay,” Takao assures, going pink in the face that a simple maternal gesture makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Thank you.”

“You can stay as long as you want,” Midorima Shinichi tells him. “Don’t stand on ceremony.”

“Thank you…” Takao mumbles and bites his bottom lip, willing himself not to cry damn it.

“But unfortunately,” Midorima’s mother starts, giving Takao an apologetic look. “You won’t be able to eat my cooking for a while.”

When Takao cocks his head to the side curiously, she continues, “Shintarou’s father and I are attending a teaching seminar in Osaka for a week. So you boys will have to take care of each other alright?”

“Yes mother,” Shin-chan answers patronizingly and retrieves her coat from the chair. He helps her put it on and Takao realizes they’re actually leaving right now. No wonder they were dressed in their work clothes.

“You’re leaving right now?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s the taxi waiting for us outside.”

“It is,” Shinichi tells her. “Have you got all your things?”

“Yes, let’s go.”

Midorima and Takao see them to the door and Kiyoko gives each of them a loving pat on the cheek before taking her husband’s arm and walking to the taxi parked outside their house.

“Shin-chan, do we have to take care of your sister too?” Takao asks once they were alone.

“No, she’s staying at my grandparents’ place for the week,” he informs him, taking Takao’s bag from the couch and leading him upstairs.

“Oh, you would have been awfully lonely then.”

“I’m not anymore.”

Takao’s heart skips a beat and swells with gratitude at all that Midorima’s done for him. He keeps saying Takao changed him for the better, but he’s the one doing all the saving recently.

“Shin-chan…” he calls and pulls on the hem of Midorima’s shirt.

He turns back, holding himself steady by the banister and catches sight of Takao’s melancholic eyes.

“Thank you.”

Midorima turns around fully to face Takao and says, “You’ve been saying that too many times tonight.”

He bends low, being much taller since he stood a step higher than Takao, and kisses him tenderly on the mouth, with Takao craning his neck up to meet his lips halfway.

He is shown to his room, which is a guest room, a well-equipped and homey-looking one despite nobody using it. Midorima shows him around (it’s big enough to warrant a mini tour but it’s not like he needs it because he’s only got one duffel bag worth of belongings) before leaving him to take a shower and telling him his room is just on the other side of the walkway.

They retire to their rooms soon, because Takao claims he’s tired and just wants to forget that this whole day happened. Yet when he’s lying on the large bed under a duvet so high in thread count, Takao realizes he cannot sleep. He tosses and turns and his mind is too full of distractions and questions. When he checks the digital clock on the nightstand, it’s already 2am.

Sighing, Takao throws the covers off and sits upright, then decides some fresh air would do him good. He grabs his pullover and puts it on, exiting the room quietly so as to not wake the one other occupant in this house. Takao surveys the second floor and pads to the balcony, slipping out into the wintery night even though it’s freezing outside.

He leans against the railings and releases a puff of air, watching it dissipate into the black night. It’s cold and his pullover isn’t doing much to keep the chill out. There’s not much of a view, it’s only looking out to the road and the row of equally lavish houses across, but Takao’s not here for the scenery anyway. He shivers, then wraps his arms around himself as he sits on the decking tiles of the balcony, bringing his knees up to his chest.

It’s quiet out here, but his mind is shouting with a hundred thoughts.

Takao doesn’t know how long he sat there alone, but his fingers were starting to freeze. In the silence, he hears soft footsteps approaching and the balcony doors slide open to reveal Midorima in cotton pyjamas and a woollen sweater, with an extra blanket in his arm. He closes the door behind him and holds Takao’s gaze, reaching out his hand to graze a knuckle across Takao’s cold cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch, savouring the warmth from Midorima’s fingers that seeps into his skin.

Midorima smiles affectionately at him and drapes the blanket onto his smaller frame, joining him on the balcony floor.

“Sorry Shin-chan, couldn’t sleep. The bed’s too big you know?” Takao jokes.

Midorima looks at Takao in concern. He can tell the humour is half-hearted.

“Don’t force yourself,” he says gently. “You don’t have to hold anything in when you’re with me.”

Takao’s eyes grow wide at Midorima’s assertion. His bottom lip starts to tremble and it has nothing to do with the cold. That one simple statement, so full of understanding and love, brings an onslaught of emotions within Takao. He finally releases the emotions he has suppressed until now, feeling them break through the walls he built around himself, the walls that stop him from picking at the wounds of his heart, that shield him away from all the questions he never had the answers to.

It overwhelms him and he takes Midorima’s advice, letting the tears fall freely from his tired eyes. The night is filled with the cries of a boy so strong, who allows himself to be fragile for a while. Midorima gathers Takao in his arms, providing the comfort of his embrace and silent understanding. He shakes and shivers in his arms, his cries muffled by his sweater and his tears soaking through the fabric. He lets it all out, years of hurt and hatred pouring out of him in pained cries and hot tears.

“ _Why?_ ” he pleads, voice breaking and tongue tasting the salty tears. “Why don’t they want me?”

“I don’t know,” Midorima whispers because he could never comprehend why anyone would abandon someone as beautiful as Takao Kazunari.

Time seems so elusive when Takao feels this vulnerable and by the time his sobs subside into hiccups, he’s aware that Midorima has been rubbing his hand up and down his back soothingly. He doesn’t say anything else, just offers his presence, and Takao thinks that is more than enough. He takes a deep breath, shuddering as he does so, and rests his forehead on Midorima’s shoulder.

They sit in each other’s embrace for a while, Midorima rubbing small circles on Takao’s back until the latter reluctantly pushes himself away and looks up at Midorima.

He sniffles before asking, “What am I going to do now Shin-chan?”

“What are you talking about? You just do what you’ve always been doing. It’s gotten you this far, it’ll get you further,” he answers with complete faith.

Takao smiles a genuine smile, one that conveys an endless gratitude and fondness for the person before him.

“You’ll be with me?”

“Always.”

Takao leans in, closing the gap between them, and sighs into the kiss. Shin-chan’s lips are just as cold as his. When they break the kiss, Midorima says, “Let’s go back in, we’ll freeze if we stay out here any longer.”

The raven-haired boy chuckles softly and nods. Midorima leads him in, fingers intertwining with his, but when Takao prepares to let go to return to the guest room, Midorima tightens his hold on his hand and tugs Takao towards him.

Takao gives him an inquisitive look and he says with a blush, “You said the bed is too big. It won’t be if we share.”

Deciding against teasing him, a decision Takao is sure to regret, he nods his consent and follows Midorima to his room. Shin-chan’s room is much bigger than the guest room not surprisingly. Takao only gives it a once-over, glancing at the shelf full of lucky items and impeccably neat desk, before climbing onto the queen-size bed with Midorima.

He slides under the covers and doesn’t shy away from Midorima’s inviting body. He snuggles closer to him, resting his head on the same pillow and sighs when Midorima wraps a protective arm around his waist. Takao falls asleep, rather quickly considering he was tossing and turning not one hour before, barely registering the kiss on his forehead. He knows, with their bodies close and legs tangled, that he’s going to be okay if Shin-chan is here with him.

* * *

Takao’s extremely glad today is a Saturday because wherever he is, it’s way too cosy to leave. He just wants to sleep into the afternoon, in this relaxing bed and welcoming heat beside him. He wonders where the warmth is coming from.

The sleepyhead cracks his eyes open and meets…green.

Oh that’s right, he cuddled Shin-chan to sleep last night. And it gave him the most restful sleep he’s had in ages.

“Good morning,” Midorima greets, his voice still husky from the lack of use and sending shivers down Takao’s spine.

“Morning,” he greets back, flashing him a smile. At a closer look, it seems like Midorima had already been awake for quite some time.

“What time is it?” he asks and yawns.

“Ten.”

Takao scrunches his nose. “Do you usually wake up at this time?”

“No,” he answers and doesn’t tell him he usually wakes up at eight.

“You should have woken me up then,” Takao says.

“It’s okay,” Midorima assures. He rather enjoyed watching Takao’s sleeping face.

“Were you watching me?” Takao asks with a smirk.

“…Maybe,” he says, a blush tinting his cheeks. He tries to adjust his glasses on his nose but realizes, to his embarrassment, that he wasn’t wearing any. Takao laughs; he could get used to this.

“I don’t feel like getting up,” Takao announces and stretches, undoing all the kinks in his neck and joints and elongating his body to flash a sliver of skin when his shirt rides up before flopping down on the bed, satisfied. He looks at Midorima from the corner of his eyes, a pleased smile gracing his lips when his boyfriend seems transfixed.

“Shin-chan?” he says, snapping him out of his reverie. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” he answers hastily.

“You can look at me,” Takao tells him coyly. “I don’t mind.”

Midorima makes a wordless sound of surprise at Takao’s bold statement, choosing to bury his face into the pillow instead of replying, which makes Takao laugh again because that happens to be amusing to him. Takao rolls on his side and swings a leg over Midorima, scooting over so that he’s half on top of him.

“Hey Shin-chan,” he says into his ear.

“What?” he answers, turning his head towards Takao’s face.

“Do you have anything on today?” he asks, breath tickling the shell of Midorima’s ear.

“I don’t,” he replies, rolling onto his back and supporting Takao’s weight.

“I was wondering if you’d accompany me to get a few more things from my place,” Takao explains. “I didn’t really pack a lot of stuff.”

“Of course,” he says without hesitation.

Takao smiles widely and buries his face into the crook of Midorima’s neck.

But as it turns out, Takao cannot catch a break when he bumps into the last people he wants to see at his house. He stops dead in his tracks when he notices the opened door and a couple of familiar voices coming from inside the house. What were they here for again? Beside him, Midorima touches his elbow gently, grasping the situation quickly. His eyes are cautious but urge Takao to go on. There was no need to be afraid.

Takao nods and walks on, but before he can enter, the occupants exit the house. He recognizes his parents, but he doesn’t know who the lady dressed in a business suit is.

“Then, the papers will be ready by next week,” the business lady says. “I will send you each a copy.”

Ah, it was a real estate agent. Takao braces himself as she glimpses at him and walks away. His parents finally realize he’s there, surprise resting on their features.

“I’m just here to collect my stuff,” he says evenly, brushing past them. Takao doesn’t notice Midorima staring pointedly at his parents, eyes growing dark under his long lashes and mouth forming a thin line.

“That’s fine Kazunari,” his mother says, and Midorima assumes they’re going to leave, but she adds, “Oh, just to remind you, you’ll need to return the keys—”

“Kazunari, give me your keys,” Midorima demands.

“What?” he asks in confusion but fumbles for his keys anyway.

“Give it,” he repeats, staring down at Takao’s parents and disregarding the fact that he’s being rude. Takao hands the keys over, and Midorima practically throws it at his father, who catches it clumsily. He’s at his limit with their bullshit, remembering every excruciating detail of Takao’s description of his parents’ actions. Seeing them treat him this way in person snapped his resolve to stay calm and provoked him to act recklessly. He will not stand to have his most important person treated unjustly.

“You can take your damn keys. Kazunari won’t be needing it anymore,” Midorima snaps, losing his cool too quickly in too short a time. “I don’t know what possessed you to think you have the right to treat Kazunari this way, and you really must be blind and senseless because he’s thoughtful, and generous, and _important_ , and it’s your loss not to have realized that.”

Midorima notices their shocked expressions and he’s pretty sure Takao is making a similar face behind him, but he doesn’t care.

“Kazunari has done perfectly on his own, and he will continue to do so without you, except now I’m going to be by his side making sure he doesn’t meet people like you. So you can take this goddamn house just like you’ve taken everything else away from him and live your lives with the knowledge that you just gave up the best thing that’ll ever happen to you. And if you’re the type of parents he needs to be stuck with, he’s really better off without.”

They looked so odd standing there with their eyes wide as saucers and wondering just who the hell was this tall, green-haired boy lecturing them in front of their son.

“And I’m Midorima Shintarou, someone who knows how to appreciate Kazunari like he deserves,” he spits out and slams the door in their faces.

He breathes heavily, chest heaving after finishing his unexpected rant.

“Shin-chan…” Takao starts. “You just…slammed the door in my parents’ faces.”

“Yes, I did,” he states, not regretting it one bit. He stares intently at Kazunari, gauging his reaction and breathing a sigh of relief when he snickers.

“I can’t believe you did that, and said all those things,” Kazunari says as he tries to hold in his laughter. “My parents just got a tongue-lashing from Shin-chan! They must be so confused.”

“I’m sorry, I’m aware of how disrespectful it must be but they deserved it.”

“No, don’t be,” Kazunari smiles. “I really couldn’t care less.”

He advances towards Shintarou, slipping his arms around his strong torso, his heart fluttering when he returns the embrace protectively.

“Thank you,” he whispers into his chest, and stands on his tippy toes to kiss him chastely. “For standing up for me.”

It reminds him vaguely of the time he stood up for him in the cafeteria, not long after they met. How interesting now that their roles were reversed.

“It was my pleasure,” Shintarou says.

“You know…” Kazunari begins, looking up at his boyfriend without breaking the hug. “We have to find a way to move my mini fridge right now. I planned on keeping it.”

“Leave it. I’ll get you a new one.”

* * *

“You called me Kazunari,” he says with a voice full of childish delight when they’re back in Shintarou’s room, his legs stretched out languidly as Shintarou sits cross-legged between them, facing him. He’s playing with the drawstrings of his sweatpants when he made that statement.

“Yes,” Shintarou says, inadvertently frowning. “Is it bad?”

“Not at all, I like it,” Kazunari promises and grins when an idea pops into his head, eyes lighting up eagerly. “Hey, teach me how to sign my name.”

The request takes Shintarou aback but he accedes to it; it’s not a bad idea.

“This is ‘ka’,” he begins, holding up his right hand to show Kazunari how the character looks like. He curls his last two fingers in, forming a 45-degree angle with his index and middle finger with the tip of his thumb poking out from beneath. Kazunari studies the sign closely and mimics.

Shintarou nods his approval and continues, “This is ‘zu’.”

He twists his wrist to point his fingers downwards, the same two curled in except now his thumb is pointing outwards. It’s much simpler than the previous character and Kazunari perfects it easily. Shintarou nods again and proceeds.

“This is ‘na’.”

With his fingers still pointing downwards, he makes a peace sign, Kazunari following almost immediately.

“And this is ‘ri’,” he finishes, making the conventional peace sign and then swinging it downwards. Kazunari follows suit, bending his wrist.

Shintarou shakes his head.

“Not directly downwards,” he points out. “Swing it slightly towards the left.”

He takes Kazunari’s wrist in his hands, directing its movement so that he makes the correct sign. Kazunari relaxes his wrist in Shintarou’s careful hands, allowing himself to flow with the motion. Deeming it acceptable, Shintarou retracts his hands and provides a full demonstration.

“Ka-zu-na-ri,” he says in tandem with each sign, formed perfectly and smoothly.

“Ka…zu…na…ri,” the raven-haired boy repeats, his signs coming out fine but more choppily than Shintarou’s.

“That’s right,” he says and Kazunari beams proudly.

“That’s pretty easy.”

“Yeah?” Shintarou taunts. “Wait till you try making sentences.”

Kazunari laughs, thoroughly enjoying the Shin-chan that is shown only for him.

“Hey Shin-chan, call me by my first name from now onwards okay? No more ‘Takao’.”

“Kazunari,” Shintarou murmurs, liking the way it sounds on his tongue and is uttered from his lips.

“Yeah, like that. It’s nice.”

“Are you going to call me by my first name too?” Shintarou asks after a while.

“Shintarou…” Kazunari says, testing the waters with the unfamiliar syllables and realizing how much he likes the way it rolls off his tongue naturally. “Do you want me to?”

“Shin-chan’s good,” the taller boy confesses after a pause, his cheeks growing pink.

“It is, isn’t it?” Kazunari smiles affectionately. He will never not be glad for inventing this nickname. “What about yours? Teach me how to sign your name too.”

He scoots closer to Shintarou excitedly as the green-eyed beauty holds up his hand again, stretching out his thumb, index, and middle finger, and points them towards the left.

“This is ‘shi’,” he instructs.

He then uses his index finger to trace a tick, smoothening out the bend. “This is ‘n’.”

Putting a thumbs-up sign, Shintarou continues, “This is ‘ta’.”

“And this is ‘ro’,” he closes by curling in his thumb, ring finger, and pinky while sticking his index and middle finger together and bending them downwards so that his hand created a sign resembling a sideways quotation mark.

Similarly, he gives Kazunari a visual demonstration and the smaller boy picks up the signs quickly, mimicking Shintarou’s movements with nimble fingers.

“Shi-n-ta-ro,” Kazunari says out loud as he forms the signs and without really thinking about it, he copies what Shintarou had showed him the night at the railroad crossing. Kazunari forms a V-shape with his thumb and forefinger, bringing them together to create the shape of a teardrop in front of his chest.

When Shintarou recognizes the signs, his eyes snap to Kazunari’s in shock.

“How do you know what that means?” he asks, green eyes brimming with astonishment behind the lenses.

“I have an Internet connection,” Kazunari answers indirectly and smirks.

“I didn’t think you would check it out,” Shintarou admits, his blush becoming more prominent. “Did you find out before or after I kissed you?”

“After,” he answers. “Like, right after.”

“Oh,” he manages, unable to think of what else to say. He must have caused Kazunari a lot of discomfort in that case.

“It’s okay,” he consoles, although his voice is playful. “You know I like you too.”

Shintarou spares Kazunari a brief glance before unnecessarily adjusting his glasses on his nose. He’s a little embarrassed now that his purely physical confession has been verbalized.

“I was thinking,” Kazunari starts again, taking Shintarou’s hand in his own. “I want to join the sign language club.”

“Really?” Shintarou asks. There’s no scepticism in his words, only a slightly-restrained eagerness.

Kazunari nods firmly. “Yeah, I want to know more about it. I want to be able to talk to people like you. I know it’s not much, but I think it’ll allow me to understand them better. I want to understand _you_ better; experience the things you experience.”

Shintarou’s breath hitches. Kazunari never stopped caring, and it astounds him that he still had so much to give even though he was not given much his whole life. To be the receiving end of Kazunari’s love, Shintarou firmly believes he must have done something right his past life.

“You know where to find us,” Shintarou says, lacing his fingers with Kazunari’s.

“I’ll see you there, _sensei_.”

Shintarou flushes when the double meaning of that salutation dawns on him. Kazunari laughs at his reaction, finding him adorable. Shintarou stares at him squarely, waiting for him to be subdued. Kazunari’s eyes still crinkle at the edges when the bouts of laughter die down and he holds their gaze with glee dancing in his irises. He willingly lets the pull of Shintarou’s emerald eyes draw him in, tongue peeking out to lick his lips before pressing them on Shintarou’s.

Shintarou matches his insistence, moving his lips in tandem with Kazunari’s. When he feels the warmth of a tongue tracing the seam of his bottom lip, Shintarou parts them nervously, heart pounding in his chest. Kazunari smiles into the kiss with being granted access and slips his tongue in slowly and deliberately. He didn’t want to do anything Shintarou didn’t like, or scare him off. Kazunari slides his tongue over Shintarou’s in tantalizing strokes, reaching out and grabbing the hem of his shirt to ground himself because it dangerously feels like he’s going to drift to a place where only urges dominated.

Shintarou’s mouth is wet and warm and Kazunari swears this is the kind of stuff that gets him hooked but doesn’t have him regretting it. He presses his mouth more firmly on Shintarou’s, wanting to taste every inch of him. But alas, the need for air took precedence and Kazunari almost moans when they break the kiss to catch their breaths.

The look on Shintarou’s face is almost a compensation for the broken kiss. Almost. Shintarou is blushing madly, as if this is the first time he’s engaged in something so intimate. Kazunari selfishly hopes it is. His green eyes are glazed and Kazunari wants him to look at him like that, but with less clothes and more physical contact. There’s a sheen of saliva on his pink lips and he wants to pat himself on the back for being the cause of it. Kazunari thanks whoever’s responsible for organizing the teaching seminar in Osaka because he’d hate to have to deal with any interruptions or self-control.

“Shin-chan,” Kazunari says, his mind focused on a certain topic now that he followed that train of thought. “Are we going to tell your parents about us?”

Shintarou licks his lips and muses, giving the question careful consideration. He responds after a while, “Let’s keep it from them for now. We’ll let them know eventually.”

Kazunari nods in agreement, deeming the decision acceptable at this point in time. He doesn’t dwell too much on it, because there are other things he would like to take care of. Besides, Shintarou looks pretty hung up on something as well.

“Shin-chan, can we continue?” Kazunari asks, his question bordering on a plea.

He has to bite back an exclamation when Shintarou nods, eyes slanting away in embarrassment. Kazunari doesn’t waste a single moment in kissing Shintarou again, sucking on his bottom lip gently until it’s swollen and well-taken care of. This time, Shintarou opens his mouth on his own volition and Kazunari doesn’t question his eagerness, just slides his tongue in and moaning softly at the sensual drag of tongue against tongue.

Kazunari finds more blood rushing south and at this point, he has discarded his inhibitions and simply let his body go with the flow. He wraps his legs around Shintarou’s waist, hoisting himself into his lap and adjusting their position so that he can settle comfortably. Shintarou opens his legs a little to accommodate Kazunari sitting on him. He’s never done anything like this before, but his hands seem to know what they’re doing when they slip under Kazunari’s shirt and slide up against his skin.

The touch makes Kazunari release a shuddering gasp and he breaks the wet kiss to rest their foreheads against each other’s. He’s conscious about how a simple touch of Shintarou’s elegant fingers already feels this good. At this rate, he’s probably not going to last very long. Still, giddy desire trumps rationality and he creates delicious friction when he rocks his hips against Shintarou’s.

It draws a gasp out of Shintarou, who dig his nails into Kazunari’s skin at the burst of sensation. It seems to encourage the raven-haired boy and he starts a steady rhythm rocking into Shintarou’s lap, groaning as he rubs their hard members through the fabric of their pants. They make their pleasure very evident with low moans and clutching fingers. Kazunari withdraws just enough to strip himself of his shirt, helping Shintarou with taking his off and tossing it aside.

His eyes roam Shintarou’s body, appreciating his broad shoulders, toned chest and stomach. He has fair skin, but for someone who’s not an athlete, Shintarou is well-built. Kazunari feels his underwear tightening.

Their eyes meet briefly and concluding that this is what they both want, Kazunari extricates himself from Shintarou to shuck off his pants and underwear. Shintarou does the same, laying his back on the bed to pull his clothes down to his ankles and completely removing them. Before he knows it, Kazunari is climbing on top of him again, straddling him on all fours. But they don’t make a move yet.

Shintarou gazes up at Kazunari, very much aware that they are naked and if Kazunari would just rest his body on his, then he could do _something_ about the desperation overwhelming him. Fortunately for him, Kazunari does do that, and the skin-to-skin contact sends shivers down their spines. Kazunari joins their hips together, and wills himself not to tear his eyes away from Shintarou’s even though the tips of his ears are burning, because he wants to remember every minute detail about this moment.

From the way Shintarou is returning his gaze, eyes dark with desire, he knows they’re on the same page. Kazunari curls his fingers into the sheets, breath coming out in quickening pants as he grinds his hips down and Shintarou lifts his to make the slide of their cocks all the more maddening. But even that is not enough to satiate Kazunari’s hunger, and he drags his hand slowly down Shintarou’s side, resting it on his hips.

He looks at Shintarou, the expression he’s wearing akin to a request for permission. He takes a breath and nods, and that’s all the encouragement Kazunari needs. He inches his shaky hand to Shintarou’s cock, wrapping his fingers around the length—Shintarou gasps and squeezes his eyes shut—amazed at how it fills his palm. It’s been a long time since he ever did anything remotely intimate with another person and he hopes he’s doing this right. He lines their erections together, whimpering as he pumps in steady strokes.

Kazunari bows his head, the sensation so delightful and addictive. Shintarou groans as Kazunari pumps, thumb swiping over the head of their cocks and smearing pre-cum messily. He digs his long fingers into Kazunari’s back, too aroused to care that he’s making red marks in the smooth skin.

“Shin-chan…” Kazunari moans, pleasure building up as he quickens his pace. Shintarou’s cock felt so good in his hands, sliding roughly against his throbbing one. He’s so close.

“I’m coming…”

Kazunari picks up speed, pumping hard and fast and groaning as the pleasure spills out of him in thick, white ropes of come. He shudders it out but doesn’t slow down because Shin-chan hasn’t—Shintarou joins him in his hazy bliss a moment later, come splattering across his abdomen and the last few spurts dripping down his cock and onto Kazunari’s fingers.

His chest is heaving and he releases a shaky breath. When his head finally clears, he looks up to see Kazunari staring at him in a mix of amusement and shyness. The full realization of what they had just done hits him with the force of a pitch and Shintarou feels the heat spreading across his neck, and cheeks, and ears. Thoroughly embarrassed, Shintarou covers his glowing face with his hands.

“No no no,” Kazunari pleads. “Don’t cover your face. I want to see you.”

He pries Shintarou’s hands away with his clean one, smiling when Shintarou avoids eye contact.

“Did you like it?”

It takes Shintarou a while to respond (not because the answer isn’t plain as day since having Kazunari’s hand on his dick was undoubtedly mind-blowing but because he’s trying to get over that hurdle called embarrassment) but eventually, he mutters softly, “Yes.”

“Good, because that was fucking awesome to me,” Kazunari says unabashedly, at which Shintarou chokes.

“Can we—can we go clean up now?” he asks instead, very mindful about the come on his stomach and how it will start drying on him if they don’t do something about it soon.

Kazunari laughs and accedes to his request, rolling off Shintarou and watching in amusement as he tries to prevent the come from dripping all the way to his groin while he makes his way gingerly to the bathroom.

* * *

“But Kasamatsu-san, I can’t keep staying at his place!” Kazunari whines to his co-worker when he returns to work on Monday.

“Then move out,” Kasamatsu says without sparing a glance at his dejected colleague, focusing instead on the bookkeeping.

“Kasamatsu-san,” Kazunari deadpans. “You really don’t understand my situation do you?”

The graduating senior looks up from his accounts and smacks Kazunari over the head, “Don’t use that tone with me.”

“Kasamatsu-senpai, you’re only allowed to hit me,” a pouty voice comes from their side.

“What the hell are you still doing here Kise?” Kasamatsu asks tiredly. All he needs is a short break to update the accounts and yet, he’s here lending one sympathetic ear to his colleague and wondering when his annoying junior will stop visiting him at work.

“That’s mean!” he complains. “I came all this way to visit you!”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“You wound me Kasamatsu-senpai…” Kise sobs dramatically.

Kasamatsu rolls his eyes and says to Kazunari, “Look Takao, moving out is the only option if you don’t want to keep imposing.”

“Where can I go?” Kazunari asks helplessly. “On-campus housing is too expensive. Are _you_ going to let me live with you in your fancy apartment huh?”

“No way Takaocchi!” Kise interjects vehemently. “It’s already crowded enough with the six of us!”

“You don’t even live there!” Kasamatsu scolds and would have kicked him if the counter wasn’t in his way. Kise really didn’t even live in the apartment he shared with his four other friends, two of which will be graduating in the same year. The blonde simply invited himself over on so many occasions they all kind of forgot he doesn’t live with them, and is actually freeloading since he doesn’t chip in with the rent either. For some reason that escapes Kasamatsu, they love him, so he’s always outnumbered when he tries to kick Kise out of the house.

“Then are _you_ going to bequeath me your dorm?” Kazunari asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I would if I could,” Kise answers sympathetically. “But Aominecchi brings Momocchi over a lot, so the dorm’s practically full even though I don’t stay there much. Having said that, I can help you ask Aominecchi. I mean, Momocchi sleeps with him on the same bed so my bed’s actually empty. He probably doesn’t mind, but you might hear them getting it on.”

Kazunari groans miserably.

“To be fair,” he rambles on. “It doesn’t happen very often. Momocchi is very shy.”

“Oh my god, shut up Kise,” Kasamatsu warns.

Kazunari rests his chin in his palm and sighs. Damn all this missed chances. And what the hell is Kise doing crashing at someone else’s place when he’s already paying for the dorm that he doesn’t even use?! Maybe he should be a model too…

“On-campus housing might be pricey,” Kasamatsu continues. “But there’s the option of a student co-operative.”

“Student co-operative?” Kazunari wonders out loud.

“Student co-op for short,” Kasamatsu explains. “It’s a cheaper housing option because you manage the whole place yourself and do your own chores. It’s off-campus but some of them are not too far from school. There’s a few clustered around the area and I don’t know if they accept applications on the spot, but you can try your luck.”

“That sounds promising…” Kazunari says, hopeful. He makes a mental note to check it out when he knocks off from work.

“Maybe you should get a better job too,” Kise suggests. “No offence Kasamatsu-senpai.”

“None taken you idiot.”

Kise pouts at his senior.

“Who’s going to hire me?”

“You know, I have a friend,” Kise starts. “I met him at work. He graduated last year from our design faculty and he’s now working as a fashion consultant for a magazine publisher. He told me recently his department’s looking for part-timers, maybe you could try it out.”

When Kazunari nods his head vigorously, eager to be presented with such a rare opportunity no matter how slim the chances of success are, Kise smiles and fishes out his phone.

“Here, I’ll send you his contact.”

Kazunari’s phone vibrates with the incoming message and he opens it.

“Mibuchi…Reo?”

“Yup! Just tell him you know me!” Kise pipes up. “Granted, it’s in the fashion line, but you don’t mind right?”

“Not at all,” Kazunari says and grins. He’s got not much of an interest in the fashion industry; he finds himself leaning toward the sports industry more. But this was for a publishing company and it would be good exposure for a communications student like him. Seeing his friends do so much for him, Kazunari feels his heart swelling with gratitude.

“Thank you,” he tells the both of them and is met with a rough hand on his head and a cheeky smile.

He’s got a strong feeling things will be looking up soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed it! See you soon~


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't mean to make you guys wait so long but work has been super busy. This chapter is a wrap-up of sorts, as it's actually the last "official" chapter. Thanks everyone for the kudos and comments and simply reading my fic. I hope you guys enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The month of December is also the month of new beginnings. Kazunari moves in to the student co-op within the first week. He was fortunate enough that one of the housings had a vacancy because someone moved out for personal reasons, and to have his application approved so quickly. It sucked to have to leave the comfort of Shintarou’s luxurious house and the warm reception of the Midorima family. Midorima Kiyoko’s cooking was as heavenly as Kazunari remembered, and he bonded so well with Shizuka too. He also missed tip-toeing to Shintarou’s room in the middle of the night to sleep with him and then sneaking back to his own room so Shintarou’s parents don’t find out.

But there was no way he could impose on them any longer, no matter how welcoming they were and no matter how much Shintarou wanted him to stay. He couldn’t live off other people’s goodwill like that. He raised himself better than this. So he firmed up his resolve to bounce back from his setback and stay strong.

The day he moved into his new home, Shintarou accompanied him, lending him a hand with what belongings he had. The place was fairly big; it was enough to house twelve people after all. And it was only a ten-minute walk from campus. The student he corresponded with, Imayoshi Shouichi (who turned out to be Shintarou’s senior in medical school), was the President of the house. He was awfully helpful, processing his application so efficiently and even allowing Kazunari to postpone his first payment until he got his pay check. He was also the one who received him.

“This,” he says as he leads Kazunari and Shintarou through the door and gestures towards the spacious living room where a couple of residents were lounging. “Is the common area. We hang out here, have our meals sometimes, catch a few games and all that stuff. Guys, come say hi.”

They get up from the couch and Imayoshi makes the introductions. “This is Takao Kazunari, he’s our newest resident. And this is Midorima Shintarou, he’s just here as company.”

“I’m Izuki Shun, nice to meet you,” the one with jet black hair says and gives Kazunari and Shintarou a friendly smile. Kazunari smiles back; he looks like someone he’ll get along with just fine.

“Fukui Kensuke,” the blonde introduces.

Just then, the door opens behind them and Kazunari gets a sense of déjà vu when he sees the familiar brunette.

“Furihata?”

“Takao?” he glances up, eyebrows raised in surprise at meeting Takao in the place he resides. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here now!”

“Seriously?”

“Yup,” comes Imayoshi’s smooth voice. “Our newest resident. Glad there’s already mutual friends here. There are more guys but since it’s a Friday night, they’re out. No worries, you’ll meet them eventually. Shall we continue on our tour?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll catch you later Takao,” Furihata says and heads upstairs.

Imayoshi takes them through the kitchen, the study room which is actually Imayoshi’s since nobody ever enters it except to use the printer and stationery, the laundry room and other miscellaneous rooms before leading them upstairs, where all the bedrooms were.

There was a corridor with two rows of rooms lining it and a common bathroom at the end. Imayoshi stops them at a particular room and knocks. He waits patiently without rapping the door another time and Kazunari’s beginning to think there’s no one inside until the door swings open to reveal another familiar face.

“What?” the person snaps, irritated at having been interrupted.

“Hanamiya?” Kazunari asks and Shintarou also can’t help but look surprised.

“Yes?” he bites, obviously recognizing the both of them but not trying to be friendly at all.

“Don’t be like that,” Imayoshi drawls. “He’s going to be staying with us.”

“Oh, shall I bring out the champagne?” he says sarcastically and closes the door loudly in their faces.

Imayoshi shakes his head and sighs, “So much for introducing our Vice-President to you.”

“ _He’s_ your Vice-President?” Shintarou asks incredulously.

“Yes, and also my roommate. Jackpot huh?”

 _“I can hear you!”_ Hanamiya shouts from inside.

The beady-eyed medical student merely chuckles and leads the freshman away, stopping at the last door of the hallway.

Imayoshi points up to the stairs leading to the third floor. “There are only two triple-rooms upstairs and that’s where the seniors stay,” he informs them. “Kasuga, Ishida, and Kobayashi, as well as Tanimura, Tabata, and Tomiya. They’re out now so we won’t go upstairs.

And this is your room,” Imayoshi tells Kazunari finally, unlocking the door and dropping the key into his palm. “It’s a single room so it’s smaller than the rest but it can be pretty cosy once you do it up to your liking.”

Kazunari wanders into the room in awe, excited about finally living in a proper room with a proper bed. It is indeed a bit small but it was by no means cramped or stuffy. A bed lines the wall, and there was a desk across it. The room also included a small nightstand and a wardrobe and honestly, Kazunari couldn’t be happier. He sits on the bed and bounces a few times on it, flashing Imayoshi and Shintarou a wide grin.

“Glad you like it,” Imayoshi says, amused. “You’re allowed to bring friends over, just don’t make too much noise. The previous occupant was evicted because even Izuki could hear him having sex from across.”

“What?!”

“Just kidding. Enjoy your stay!”

With that, Imayoshi saunters away and retreats to his own room.

“Is he really kidding?” Kazunari asks Shintarou, genuinely concerned over it. “I hope I don’t find any _leftovers_ here.”

“I _think_ he’s kidding?” Shintarou offers.

“Come on Shin-chan, join me!” Kazunari insists, ignoring Imayoshi’s joke and patting the bed. Shintarou closes the door behind him and approaches Kazunari, settling himself on the bed beside him. It’s comfortable, just not as comfy as the ones in his house.

“Don’t sulk.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Then what are these lines in your forehead about?” Kazunari questions, poking his finger at Shintarou’s creases. Shintarou frowns even more deeply and holds Kazunari’s wrists, bringing them away from his face.

“There was no need for you to leave,” he says in a way that refutes his claim of not sulking. “My parents wouldn’t have minded at all. And I—”

“I know Shin-chan,” Kazunari interrupts gently. “Which is why I can’t stay any longer. Because if you guys are any kinder towards me, I’m going to find myself depending on you entirely. And that’s not going to work, I have to fend for myself.”

Shintarou purses his lips, “But you’ve been doing that your whole life. You can rely on me too. You were the one who taught me that.”

“And I _have_ relied on you. But this isn’t just about depending on you. It’s—” Kazunari stops, struggling to confess his hidden emotions. “I have my pride too…do you understand?”

Shintarou’s eyes soften and he nods, to which Kazunari smiles appreciatively and laces their fingers together.

“This is good too,” he says optimistically. “And you can always come over for a visit!”

“Yes, I’ll have to bring the lava lamp over soon,” Shintarou muses, referring to the present he bought for Kazunari’s birthday which is still in his guest room.

“That’s not what I meant, but okay!” Kazunari chuckles and tugs Shintarou towards him, kissing him square on the mouth and lips widening into a grin when he swallows Shintarou’s sound of surprise.

* * *

Not long after he moves in and the gifts from his friends (ranging from a really fluffy pillow from Kimura to a mini bookshelf from Kuroko) stop pouring in, Kazunari starts his new job at the publishing company. As Shintarou expected, he aced the interview and was requested to start work immediately. Kazunari’s both excited and nervous on his first day but Mibuchi had been exceptionally welcoming, although flirtatiously so.

“So is this your first job?” Kazunari’s androgynous colleague asks as he leads him through the floor to his desk.

“Not exactly. I’ve worked many part-time jobs throughout high school, but this is my first ‘proper’ job,” he replies, scanning the open-concept office and noting with wonderment the rows of stylish desks and myriad of layouts and mood boards lining the walls. He only thought it weird that the office is empty.

“Impressive,” Mibuchi remarks with a twinkle in his eyes.

“They’re just odd jobs,” Kazunari says modestly.

“Still, you look like someone who can adapt to your circumstances,” Mibuchi says and Kazunari briefly entertains the notion that this man has a glib tongue.

“I guess we’ll see about that,” he answers humorously.

Mibuchi lets out a delighted laugh and rests his palm on a desk already prepared for Kazunari.

“Here we are, your very own desk,” Mibuchi announces and Kazunari makes himself comfortable on the swivel chair.

“Thanks!” he says cheerily. “By the way, where is everyone? The office is not usually this empty right?”

“They’re having a meeting right now. I’ll introduce you to the rest when it’s over,” Mibuchi informs him, and drops his gaze to Kazunari. “By the way Kazu-chan, are you by any chance attached?”

Kazunari masks his surprise at being called so affectionately with a good-natured smile. “I am.”

“Lucky,” Mibuchi says cryptically and raises an eyebrow suggestively at Kazunari. “Well, feel free to play around with the computer for now. Harasawa-san will be giving you some work soon. He’s the tall, fair, and handsome dude with curly hair. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to give me call, Kazu-chan.”

“I’ll be sure to do that. Thanks, Mibuchi-san.”

“Please, call me Reo,” he winks and saunters to his own desk.

Kazunari bites back a smile and waits as the computer starts up. Juggling a serious part-time job three days a week, a university education, his chores at the co-op, and the most amazing person he calls his boyfriend is going to be a challenge, but somehow, it doesn’t seem that daunting. Kazunari can’t wait to tell Shin-chan about his first day at work.

* * *

“Please Shin-chan!” Kazunari begs, presenting Shintarou his best puppy dog eyes.

“What do you want it for?” Shintarou asks cautiously, his half-eaten lunch forgotten for now.

“Oh you know…just thought it would be nice,” Kazunari answers vaguely.

“Then no,” Shintarou says firmly and sighs when Kazunari’s face falls dramatically. “I’m not going to get a tattoo with you just because you think ‘it would be nice’.”

Kazunari pouts, “It’s not just going to be any tattoo…”

Shintarou furrows his eyebrows at him, prompting him to continue and Kazunari adds, “I was thinking we could get soundwave tattoos.”

The green-haired boy blinks, his eyes a perfect demonstration of his surprise. Soundwaves? Shintarou has a strong hunch that Kazunari’s sudden request had not been made without careful consideration.

“Soundwaves?”

“Yeah!” Kazunari pipes up, mouth turning up in a hopeful smile. “It’d be symbolic you know?”

Shintarou doesn’t fight the blush that spreads across his cheeks. He knows exactly what it would symbolize.

“Where are you thinking of having it?” he dares to ask.

Kazunari’s smile grows wider. “I initially thought of having it here,” he says, pointing to the space above his heart. “But then it seemed too conspicuous, so I decided that having it here would be better,” he finishes and rests his fingers on the inside of his wrist.

“And what would the soundwaves convey?” he says in a low voice, attention fully focused on Kazunari.

Shintarou watches expectantly as Kazunari’s eyes shimmer in delight and lips spreading into a devious and gleeful smile, as if he had been waiting for Shintarou to ask. He leans into Shintarou’s space, locking eyes with his inquisitive ones and whispers against his lips.

“I love you, Shin-chan.”

They get their tattoos on Saturday at a parlour recommended by Himuro Tatsuya. He told Kazunari that it was the place he patronized for his tattoos and sang praises about it. Apparently, the tattoo artist, a blonde American woman, was a damn talented one and the price was affordable. Even though Shintarou relented to getting matching tattoos, he was still shy and nervous about actually having it inked onto his skin. So Kazunari took it upon himself to lead their journey.

They had used an online software to record their voices and printed out a copy of the soundwaves, with Shintarou’s having fewer crests. When the outgoing tattoo artist asked them what they’d like, Kazunari holds up the piece of paper and grins.

It was nothing short of entertaining to watch Shintarou squirm and flinch when Alex sterilized the instrument and started inking his right wrist. She had to pause on a few occasions to make sure he was still doing okay. Kazunari thought he had it worse, since his voice is higher and there would be more waves to ink. But as it turned out, he took it like a champ and even enjoyed watching the ink being injected into his skin.

The whole process was over all too quickly to Kazunari’s disappointment and Shintarou’s relief, and they were told to give it several hours before they remove the bandages. Alex was very detailed in her instructions regarding tattoo after-care and provided them with words of advice and cautionary notes. Shintarou was listening attentively while Kazunari just wanted to remove it as soon as possible.

When they return to Shintarou’s place, and only after Shintarou has made sure it’s safe to remove their bandages, they lock themselves in the bathroom to check on their tattoos. They peel off the bandage carefully and clean away the leftover ointment with a non-scented liquid antibacterial soap (courtesy of Shintarou).

They stare at their wrists, half-amazed and half-thrilled, studying how the jet black ink run across their veins. It’s only a couple of centimetres tall and it almost stretches across the length of their wrist (Alex didn’t want to make it too small since the tattoo would turn out looking too cramped). Kazunari thought it looked perfect.

He holds up his wrist to face Shintarou, asking with a grin, “Nice huh? What do you think?”

“It looks good,” he answers softly but honestly, embarrassed because this was the visual illustration of a shy ‘I love you Kazunari’ uttered into his laptop.

The initiator of this decision smirks playfully and says, “When we hold hands now, our tattoos will be reflecting each other.”

“I suppose,” Shintarou agrees and blushes when Kazunari takes his hand to prove his point. He presses their palms together so that their tattoos faced each other, careful not to let them touch as they were still healing.

“See?”

Shintarou shows his understanding by slipping his elegant fingers between Kazunari’s. The affectionate gesture makes his eyes shine and he steps closer to Shintarou. He lifts his head to whisper the reason behind his decision to his lover.

“Even if you can’t hear me say I love you, you can see it.”

Tip-toeing, Kazunari seals their mouths with a kiss.

* * *

It turns out the tattoo isn’t just symbolic, it served other _stimulative_ purposes.

Shintarou is let into the dormitory on a lazy Saturday by Izuki, who opens the door for him with a sandwich in hand.

“Midorima,” he greets amiably. “Here for Takao?”

“Yes,” he answers and slips his shoes off.

“He’s upstairs in his room,” Izuki tells him. “Feel free to join us for dinner later. Furihata’s going to prepare his famous Italian spread for us.”

“Ah, thank you,” he says politely.

Izuki leaves him to head upstairs on his own. Ever since Kazunari moved in, Shintarou’s been here several times such that he became a regular presence among the residents. He makes his way up the stairs and lets himself into Kazunari’s room.

“Shin-chan!” the boy exclaims, evidently overjoyed to see him. “You’re finally here, I was so bored!”

“Then finish your assignments,” Shintarou says as he settles on the beanbag (gifted by none other than Kise), more than used to Kazunari’s dramatic declarations.

Kazunari pouts. “They’re finished. What do you think I was doing before you came?”

“Procrastinating,” Shintarou answers bluntly.

“I only procrastinate when you’re here,” Kazunari counters mischievously, getting up from his chair and making his way towards the lounging boy.

“I find that hard to believe.”

Kazunari procrastinates all the time.

“Well you did say I’m full of surprises,” he points out and straddles Shintarou, resting his knees on the soft beanbag.

“I did,” Shintarou agrees, a little caught off-guard by Kazunari’s _progress_ today. His visits usually involved a little touching but even that took some time to materialize. He presumes Kazunari is feeling bold enough after all that practice.

He is proven correct when a flash of determination crosses Kazunari’s silver blue eyes. Shintarou feels the beanbag dip as Kazunari closes in, his boyish face disappearing when he shuts his eyes and meets his lips halfway. Kazunari wraps his arms around Shintarou and deepens the kiss, angling his head so that their lips fit better.

The kiss builds heat in their mouths and also in the pits of their stomachs. Shintarou would never admit it, but he missed the physical intimacy with his boyfriend and he craved it. Today, like any other times, his craving is very much prominent from the tent in his pants. It pleases him to know that Kazunari was reacting similarly when he presses down onto his crotch.

The sweatpants Kazunari was wearing did little to hide his growing erection, unlike Shintarou’s black denim, which made him feel like it’s too tight and too hot. Dizzy with arousal, Kazunari absentmindedly creates friction between their groins as he slides his tongue into Shintarou’s opened mouth, humming when their tongues join in a sensual battle where nobody is the loser.

As he kisses him insistently, Kazunari automatically reaches down with the intention of moving things forward. He doesn’t break the kiss as he unbuckles Shintarou’s belt and works on loosening his black denim pants. Kazunari palms him through his underwear, smirking when Shintarou gasps into his mouth. He strokes him through the fabric, taking delight in the way he grows and twitches under his touch.

He slides his hand into Shintarou’s boxer briefs, cupping his balls then pumping gently. Shintarou makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat and clutches him more tightly. Feeling encouraged, Kazunari continues his ministrations until he decides that he doesn’t want this to end like all the previous times, coming onto each other’s hands or torso. So he tugs on Shintarou’s pants and underwear until he gets the hint and lifts his bottom, allowing Kazunari to remove them completely.

Shintarou assumes Kazunari will do the same, but instead, he lifts Shintarou’s shirt and removes it in one swift motion. When he discards his own as well, Kazunari plants kisses across his jaw, down the column of his neck and chest. He reaches Shintarou’s abdomen, pausing when his chin barely touches the head of his cock and glancing up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Shin-chan, can I?” Kazunari asks in a raspy voice. “Please?”

Shintarou’s not sure what Kazunari is asking permission for but whatever he has to offer, he wants it. So he nods. Pleased, Kazunari smirks and lowers his head, lips ghosting over the tip of Shintarou’s cock. The green-haired boy can feel Kazunari’s breath fanning across the head and he realizes with an ‘oh’, feeling a little silly for not figuring it out earlier.

Kazunari flickers his eyes to Shintarou’s heated face, then peeks his tongue out between his lips and swipes it over the tip. Shintarou’s breath hitches and the desire to chase the heat of Kazunari’s mouth fans low in his stomach. Kazunari decides to take things slow because they have all the time in the world and he wants to make sure Shintarou feels every sensation he’s about to give.

He starts to swirl his tongue around the head, gripping Shintarou’s hips and holding him in place. He hears his breathing go shallow and proceeds to wrap his lips around Shintarou’s cock, earning him another startled gasp. As he works his mouth around his erection, teasing him by licking the head and never going beyond, Shintarou finds reality slipping away and he buries his fingers in Kazunari’s hair for some semblance of control, digging his nails into his scalp.

Kazunari winces a little and tilts his head enough to glimpse at Shintarou, who’s wearing an expression that sends his dick straining in his underwear. His green eyes are dark and his mouth is slightly parted, breaths coming out in quick pants. Kazunari replaces his mouth with his hand, massaging his balls gently and turning his face so that he was at eye-level with Shintarou’s wrist. He skims his lips across the tattoo, barely exerting any pressure on Shintarou’s pulse and slants his silver eyes at the blushing boy. The act sends Shintarou’s hairs standing. A shiver rakes up his arm and his cock jumps.

His reaction surprises Kazunari and he grins, moving his mouth back to his prize. Kazunari sucks on his cock again and flicks his tongue over the slit. He starts a quick rhythm swiping his tongue back and forth, occasionally pressing down on it and tasting the pre-cum that collects. Deciding not to delay the inevitable any longer, Kazunari secures his mouth around Shintarou’s member and starts to bob his head up and down, taking Shintarou fully into his mouth. It rips a groan from him, unable to contain the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation of being taken into Kazunari’s mouth.

Not expecting such an obscene sound to escape his throat, Shintarou’s cheeks burn and his hand flies to his mouth in mortification. Kazunari notices his astonishment and attempt to hide his blushing face and slides his mouth off Shintarou, bringing one hand up to pull Shintarou’s hand away.

“Don’t,” he requests. “Let me hear you.”

Shintarou doesn’t resist when Kazunari takes him by the wrist and nods red-faced because he could never bring himself to deny him in this intoxicating moment. It appeases Kazunari and he sucks and licks, loving the way Shintarou fills his mouth, all smooth and hard sliding against his tongue. Shintarou watches with heady excitement the way he disappears into Kazunari’s hot mouth, only to appear again covered in a coat of saliva. He’s glad Kazunari didn’t remove his glasses, because the scene before him is too alluring to leave him satisfied with a blurred version.

When he fulfils Kazunari’s request, he finds the moans and whimpers tumbling out of his mouth easily, and Shintarou has to restrain himself from being too loud. Watching Kazunari closing in around his cock, taking him in as much as he can and _enjoying_ it, was simply too much to handle. And as much as he’s enjoying his virgin experience of receiving a blowjob, Shintarou wants Kazunari to pick it up.

He makes an urgent sound in his throat, one that Kazunari has the talent to decipher. Kazunari takes Shintarou into his mouth again, lips dragging over his shaft until the head of his cock hits the back of his throat. It’s wet and hot and with the quickening pace Kazunari was maintaining, Shintarou feels like he’s being driven closer to the edge. He bites down on his lip as Kazunari hums around his cock, perfectly unfazed by the lewd sounds his mouth was making. Kazunari picks up speed yet again, sliding down Shintarou hard and fast until he couldn’t contain the moans in his throat.

“I’m close…” he says in between ragged breaths.

Kazunari continues, his own cock begging for release as he fills his mouth with Shintarou again and again. It is not until Shintarou chokes out an “I’m coming…!” that Kazunari releases his mouth with a pop, and the first spurts of Shintarou’s orgasm splatters across his face. Kazunari takes care of Shintarou very well, so he doesn’t stop even when there’s come dripping down his cheek. He takes Shintarou’s pulsing cock in his hand and pumps, helping him ride out his pleasure until he lays against the beanbag, boneless.

Kazunari smirks, feeling beyond satisfied at his handiwork, and wipes a thumb across Shintarou’s cock to collect the dribbling come. He brings his thumb to his lips, intending to lick it clean, but is stopped when Shintarou notices and jerks his hand away.

“Don’t—” he starts but the warning dies in his throat when he sees Kazunari’s face, come dripping down his skin and dangerously close to his lips. He burns with embarrassment at the image and only manages to sputter.

Kazunari smirks at how flustered Shintarou was and assures him, “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

But it doesn’t do much to calm him down, and Kazunari watches Shintarou in amusement hobbling his way to the nightstand where the box of tissues sits. He tears a couple out and immediately wipes them across Kazunari’s face gingerly, careful not to smear any messily. Kazunari just lets him do as he likes, although he’s going to discreetly head to the bathroom to wash his face anyway.

“Thanks Shin-chan,” he still says appreciatively when Shintarou ensures that there isn’t any leftover come on his boyfriend’s face. “How was it?”

Shintarou searches for his underwear and pants so he doesn’t have to look at Kazunari in the eye when he says, “Don’t ask embarrassing questions that you already know the answer to.”

“Hmmm,” Kazunari hums happily and stretches his legs out in front of him, gazing at Shintarou with devilish eyes. “My turn?”

* * *

Shintarou and Kazunari don’t announce that they’re romantically involved to their friends. It’s only when they’re being asked that they provide the truth. As of now, only Kazunari’s seniors and Kasamatsu (Kazunari revealed it to him during his stay at the Midorima household) know about it, and the residents at Kazunari’s co-op probably knew about it too (but they can’t be sure). Unbeknownst to them, their relationship was somewhat of an open secret, which they found out during their usual streetball matches on a Saturday.

When they arrived at the court, dressed in long sleeves to combat the winter, Kazunari bounds over to Kasamatsu the moment he spots him.

“Kasamatsu-san!” he exclaims, sprinting over to his friend. “I didn’t expect to see you here today!”

“Oh Takao,” Kasamatsu greets as he pulls up his black socks. “Kise wouldn’t stop pestering me if I don’t turn up.”

“He’s doing a good job,” Kazunari jokes and ignores the scowl Kasamatsu throws his way. “Did ya miss me at work?”

“As if,” he scoffs.

“Aw, but _I_ missed you at work,” Kazunari continues. “Maybe you should come join me. I don’t want you to be stuck with this job all the time.”

“I told you it’s just so I can earn extra cash,” Kasamatsu reminds him. “And it’s not like I’m going to be stuck doing this all the time, you do know I’ve already secured an employment for when I graduate right?”

“I know, still—”

“Worry about yourself idiot,” Kasamatsu scolds.

Kazunari grins and decides to drop the subject, steering their conversation to something he believes is more pressing.

“I don’t need to worry about myself,” Kazunari says confidently. “You know, I’m pretty knowledgeable in men’s clothing now. I can give you a few tips so you’ll look absolutely dashing even next to Kise.”

“Ha ha, I’ll pass,” Kasamatsu says dryly. “Now stop flirting with me and start your warm-ups.”

“I’m not flirting with you!” Kazunari protests. “I’m helping you so Kise will ask you out on dates since you’re not going to do it.”

“Shut up about Kise,” Kasamatsu warns. “And your boyfriend doesn’t seem to think so.”

He jerks his head towards somewhere behind Kazunari and he turns to see Shintarou glaring at them, a flash of possessiveness in his eyes. Kazunari grins sheepishly at Kasamatsu and excuses himself to tell his boyfriend there’s nothing to glare daggers at.

The games are in full swing in no time despite not having as large an attendance compared to summer. Shintarou doesn’t get the chance to be in the same team as Kazunari this time. Instead, he’s grouped with Akashi (invited by Furihata) and Murasakibara, and is up against Kuroko, Aomine, and Kise. Shintarou’s dominating the court with his three-pointers as usual, and it’s not until they’re exhausted and taking a break that Kise brings something up.

“Hey Midorimacchi,” he calls when they’re all resting at the benches. “What’s that on your wrist?”

Shintarou stills at Kise’s question, caught off-guard by the suddenness of it. The people on this court didn’t know about his relationship with Kazunari and usually, people find out when they ask, “Hey, are you dating Takao?”, never through the tattoo. He briefly panics and wonders why Kazunari had to be on the other court but then realizes that there’s nothing wrong if they found out. Their relationship doesn’t have to be a secret from their friends. Sure, it might be a little embarrassing to admit, but as long as they don’t start acting childish, it’s going to be fine.

“Is it a tattoo?” Kise probes. “I keep seeing it when you make a shot.”

Ah, that makes sense. Although Shintarou wore long sleeves, they would slip down whenever he shoots and it’s not a surprise someone would notice with the tattoo facing outwards.

“Nah, Midorima would never get a tattoo,” Aomine says.

“It is a tattoo,” Shintarou points out, which earns him several wide-eyed stares.

“Shit, seriously?”

“Ehh…can we see it?” Murasakibara asks and Shintarou feels like they’re closing in on him.

Self-consciously, he pulls up the sleeve of his shirt and faces the inside of his wrist towards them, but of course, the tattoo is upside-down. The five of them look on with interest, with Kise letting out an awed ‘ooo’.

“Is that a heartbeat?” Aomine asks.

“Aomine-kun, if your heart beats like that, you will die,” Kuroko says flatly.

“They’re soundwaves,” Akashi tells them.

“Yes,” Shintarou affirms.

“It’s classy,” Kise compliments.

“Thank you…”

As if right on time, Kazunari comes jogging over, having just finished his own game with Kagami, Kasamatsu, Himuro, Furihata, and Sakurai. He notices the five of them studying Shintarou’s wrist and realizes they’ve found out about it. He saves Shintarou from having to say anything else by asking chirpily, “Oh, are you all looking at Shin-chan’s tattoo? I have one too!”

He holds up his own and shows it to them proudly. Shintarou flushes when their interest is renewed.

“It’s not the same thing right?” Murasakibara wonders.

Kazunari shakes his head, “Nope. They’re slightly different. Mine has more crests because I have a higher voice.”

“What does it say?”

Trust Aomine to ask the important questions.

“I love you,” Kazunari says unabashedly and for a fraction of a second, Aomine thought Kazunari was saying it to him.

“Ohhhh...” Murasakibara drawls as enlightenment dawns on him. He didn’t sound surprised, but sounded more like something he expected happened.

“Midorima, you’ve never told me anything about it,” Akashi says and Shintarou thinks he detects a hint of soreness in his voice.

“So you two finally got together!” Kise exclaims.

“Wait, since when were you two together?!” Aomine asks right after.

“Since the end of October,” it was Kuroko who answered, to everyone’s surprise.

“How did you know?” Shintarou asks, eyebrows raised high not only because Kuroko knew exactly when, but also because everyone (with the exception of Aomine) seemed to know they had feelings for each other and expecting them to get together eventually.

“It’s very obvious,” Kuroko simply says. “And I caught you two kissing in the library that day.”

Shintarou makes a strangled sound while Kazunari laughs heartily.

* * *

During winter holidays, Kazunari takes them to the beach. The weather is still cold, but this year, the winter doesn’t bite. The trip to the beach had been a spur of the moment. Kazunari did not only have a roof over his head, it included people he lived and laughed together, he had a better job, and had fewer worries now. He thought it would be a good idea to escape the city life for a while. Besides, Kazunari had fond memories of beaches when he was young and loved, and he wanted to create better memories with better company.

“You cold?” Kazunari asks as they stroll hand-in-hand along the shore, the low tide barely reaching their feet.

Shintarou shakes his head. He wasn’t wearing a scarf, just a navy blue pea coat over his cashmere shirt, and a pair of dark denims. He had taken off his shoes and socks when they stepped onto the beach, holding them in his free hand while the other was laced with Kazunari’s. Their tattoos were covered by their sleeves, occasionally peeking out when their hands swung. Shintarou’s feet were getting cold, but it was still bearable. He enjoyed moments like this, quiet, peaceful, and private. And it was even better when he had Kazunari to share it with.

Beside him, Kazunari walked barefooted as well. He wore a forest green parka with a light grey woollen shirt underneath, matched with a pair of blue jeans. His cheeks were growing a little pink and he shuffles a little closer to Shintarou for warmth. Kazunari was glad to be the only ones visiting the beach on this winter’s day.

The sunset cast an orange hue on the beach and Kazunari looked out into the sea where the sun was dipping over the horizon. He tugs on Shintarou’s hand and they stop, facing the sunset. He watches with nostalgia and wonderment the ball of light descending, barely noticing its movement, and squeezes Shintarou’s hand.

“It’s breath-taking right?”

“Yes,” Shintarou agrees and faces him. “Did you use to visit beaches often?”

“When I was younger, yeah. Those were better days,” he answers and pauses before continuing, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to one. Thanks for accompanying me today Shin-chan.”

“You don’t have to thank me for this,” he tells him as-a-matter-of-factly.

“Even so,” Kazunari begins and drops his shoes on the sand. “I have a lot of things to thank you for.”

Shintarou knits his eyebrows questioningly and puts his shoes down as well. If anyone has to be grateful, it should be him. He couldn’t imagine how mundane and muted his life would still be if Kazunari didn’t roll down that hill and devoured his lunch that day.

“Like?”

“Like not letting me starve to death when I was jobless and desperate,” Kazunari says, counting them off. “For entertaining my wisecracks and constant chattering, for being there for me when I was alone and for standing up for me, for not minding my circumstances and still wanting me. For making me feel like I’m home.”

Shintarou flushes under Kazunari’s string of appreciative words, uttered so sincerely. It made his heart thump in his chest to hear him say he felt like he’s home when he’s with Shintarou. For most of his life, Shintarou had been alone, withdrawn and isolated not only because of his disability, but also his personality. He always felt so awkward and so dejected trying to find his place in the world that he never imagined he would be what someone called their home.

If anything, Kazunari was his home. With Kazunari, he felt safe, warm, comfortable, and entirely himself. He didn’t have to be scared, and he didn’t have to pretend. Undeniably, his house was his home, but he didn’t expect to find one in a person called Takao Kazunari.

“That should be my line,” Shintarou mumbles. “You know I’ve always felt like the odd one out. But you accepted me, you helped me to view my disability differently, and helped me improve my social skills…you made me feel like I belong more than I’ve ever been.”

Kazunari laughs lightly, heartened at Shintarou’s genuine confession.

“I could say the same thing,” he tells Shintarou. “I may be a social butterfly, making lots of friends easily and blending in well with the people I’m with. But it’s because I seem like I fit in all the time that I don’t really feel like I belong anywhere.”

Kazunari chuckles blithely and circles his arms around Shintarou’s waist, looking up at him as he gazes down intently. His breath tickles when he says, “I guess we’re just two lost souls who found our place in each other.”

Shintarou wraps his arm around Kazunari a little more tightly, the simple gesture understood by the shorter boy as Shintarou’s whole-hearted agreement. Honestly, Shintarou thought, it was strangely fitting that two drifters who felt like they never truly belonged, found their place in each other. He must have used up all his luck when Kazunari tumbled into his life. Shintarou rests his forehead against Kazunari’s and softly says, “I must be the luckiest person on Earth.”

Kazunari graces him with a toothy grin and buries his cheek into Shintarou’s cashmere shirt, pointing his nose up to breathe in his scent.

“Hey Shin-chan,” he speaks into his ear and Shintarou looks down. “It doesn’t matter that you can’t hear properly, or if you can’t hear anymore.”

The green-eyed boy studies Kazunari, whose eyes are brimming with nothing but love and promise.

“There are still four other senses. Maybe you can’t hear the waves crashing without your hearing aid, but you can see them rolling in and breaking at the shoreline.”

He turns to look at the open sea stretching out into the darkening sky and Shintarou follows his gaze.

“You can smell the salty air. And you can feel the sand between your toes,” he pauses to wriggle his toes in the sand and Shintarou tries it too. The grains shift beneath his sole and through the spaces of his toes. Kazunari laughs, bright and clear, and Shintarou realizes he missed out one.

“What can I taste then?” he asks.

Kazunari smirks at him, all playful and carefree like the second time they met. He cranes his neck up, tilting his chin to close the distance between them and whispers, the words ghosting across Shintarou’s lips.

“The taste of my lips,” he says and kisses him firmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand there we have it! I'm a sucker for happy endings because I just want my otps to be happy and blissful and domestic is that so much to ask.
> 
> Anyway, there'll be a chapter 10 (yay) but it's more like a one-shot spun off from this universe. To give you a bit more details, it depicts our characters spending a few days of their spring break in Akashi's lodge (idea shamelessly stolen from the epilogue of Hidamari ga Kikoeru). Shenanigans ensue. It's still a WIP so it won't be published too soon but I promise to finish it as soon as I can! See you all!


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little fluff to wrap it all up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I am so sorry for the wait. Work is merciless and I've only been able to find pockets of time to write this chapter. But I did it! And so here's the last chapter of Show and Tell.
> 
> Also, I made a mistake here. It’s Spring Break, meaning this takes place in Feb/Mar (let’s go with end March). Apparently the average temperature in Tokyo then is about 12-17°C (54-63°F), which is too cold for such a trip! Especially for such activities. So please overlook that factual error and just pretend that the weather is appropriate ok? I’m so sorry!! Please enjoy!!

First of all, Akashi Seijuuro is filthy rich. His family owned a lodge on the outskirts of Tokyo where the Akashi Corporation would organize annual business functions and his father would invite a few associates for a getaway. This spring break, the business undergraduate had the whole lodge to himself and took the initiative to invite his friends and their friends for a 3-day-2-night trip in the wonderful outdoors.

Secondly, Kazunari finds it both amazing and hilarious that everyone seemed to know everyone else. Having fit in well with the boys during the streetball matches, Akashi no doubt invited all of them to his well-equipped lodge. They were allowed to bring friends if they so wished and Kise took the chance to invite Kasamatsu, who agreed after much bugging. And because Furihata and Takao were dormies, Akashi asked them to invite the rest of the residents at their student co-op. Unfortunately, only Izuki, Imayoshi, Hanamiya, and Fukui could make it.

Izuki hit it off with the seniors who usually played in Kuroko’s and Kagami’s team. Imayoshi seemed to blend in well with Aomine, Momoi, and Sakurai, and Fukui formed a strange bond with Murasakibara and Himuro. Which is why Kazunari felt like his friends all seemed to know one another, and it was such a heart-warming feeling.

He and Shintarou were one of the few who arrived earlier at the lodge, thanks to Shintaro’s dedication to punctuality. When they turned up at the huge lodge with their duffel bags in the morning, they were received warmly by Akashi, who showed them around (briefly, because by the time they visited the common area, spacious kitchen, dining area, recreation centre, pristine toilets, and outdoor onsen, they were wondering when they’d get to the bedrooms) and finally brought them to their room.

The lodge was huge, but not enough to allow each person an entire room to himself. So everyone had to room as a pair. Shintarou and Kazunari padded around their room after Akashi left them to receive other guests. The former immediately got to work unpacking some of their belongings while the latter scurried around, checking out the whole room in unbridled amazement.

The room is a traditional one, more than enough for two. There’s a quaint coffee table in the far end of the room, and on top of it sits a ceramic pot and a lacquered wooden box filled with various types of tea bags. In the middle of the room lay two futons next to each other and Kazunari wonders if all the rooms had the same layout since not all pairs are romantically involved with each other. The futons look extremely comfy and Kazunari can’t wait to snuggle under them as he cuddles up to Shintarou.

Kazunari bounds over to the sliding doors, eager to see what’d behind them, and slides them open. The scene that greets him takes his breath away, because he’s looking out at a beautiful garden. It’s filled with colourful shrubs and a koi fish pond sits within a circle of stones. When Kazunari looks to his side, he notices the verandas of the rooms beside his. The sliding doors were closed, so he presumes his neighbours (whoever they’ll be) have yet to arrive.

Kazunari takes his time to drink in the scene before him, breathing in the fresh air. He’s never been to such a lovely place before. Before he can turn back into the room to tell Shintarou to come see this, the boy is already stepping out onto the veranda.

“Shin-chan!” Kazunari calls excitedly. “It’s beautiful right?”

“Yes it is,” Shintarou agrees, slipping his arm around Kazunari’s waist and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He’s seen this sort of scenery before, and several more picturesque ones, since he came from an affluent family as well and has been on his fair share of family vacations. But Shintarou always finds a faint smile tugging on the corners of his lips at Kazunari’s child-like amazement.

“I wish I could experience more of these things,” Kazunari says longingly.

“That can be arranged.”

Kazunari looks up at him half-inquisitively, half-expectantly.

“There are many ryokans in Osaka offering a variety of facilities and boasting impressive views,” Shintarou tells him and feels his cheek warming up at the shy invitation. “We can go there during summer vacation.”

“Just the two of us?” Kazunari asks, shuffling closer to Shintarou and slanting his eyes suggestively at him.

“Of course,” Shintarou answers, lowering his head.

“I’ll hold you up to that,” the shorter boy says and meets Shintarou’s lips halfway.

* * *

By the time everyone’s arrived at the lodge, it was already close to 12pm. The guests who were already there had a barbeque going, grilling patties, sausages and corn on a cob. Aomine was royally late, the latest one in fact, which made Momoi late by extension. So the seniors made him do the grilling instead and serve it to everyone. But after burning more food than they were comfortable with, he was being supervised by Kagami, much to their displeasure.

“Aomine are you goddamn blind?” Kagami grits out, one split eyebrow twitching in annoyance. He points the pair of tongs at a hamburger patty, which has long passed the well-done stage and entering into ‘charred and inedible’. “This is black.”

“The colour’s supposed to look like your skin, Aomine-kun.”

“Fu—don’t do that Tetsu!”

“Sorry,” Kuroko apologizes half-heartedly and walks out from behind Aomine to join Kagami at his side. The red-head dumps the burnt patty into the trash bag, together with the other failed ones, as Kuroko tugs on the hem of his shirt.

“Kagami-kun, when is the next batch going to be done?” he glances at the sizzling spread before turning his bright, blue eyes to Kagami, who catches the unsaid part of his question.

“You’re hungry?” he voices and prods a nicely-brown patty, flipping it over to make sure it’s well-cooked. Deeming it edible, he picks it up and lays it on Kuroko’s plate neatly. “Here, this one’s done. Come back in 15 minutes, the rest should be done by then. If Ahomine doesn’t screw it up.”

“Oi.”

“Thank you,” Kuroko says politely and smiles, satisfied with his juicy patty (which he plans to share with his seniors because he’s generous).

“Be careful, it’s hot,” Kagami warns gently as Kuroko heads back, making the blue-eyed boy turn his head to flash him a small smile.

“God, where does it end with you two?” Aomine asks, making a face.

Before Kagami can retort however, Kazunari comes bounding to the both of them, with Shintarou a few steps behind.

“We can help!” he offers cheerily.

Kagami eyes the both of them warily and well, to be fair, his scepticism was directed only at Shintarou.

“You can stay,” he says to Kazunari and passes him a spare pair of tongs. “You,” he pauses when his eyes meet Shintarou’s, who’s beginning to feel a little offended by that hesitation. “You burn toast.”

Aomine scoffs beside him as Shintarou glares at the both of them before narrowing his eyes at Kazunari.

“You told him about _that_ incident?” Shintarou questions accusingly, cheeks heating up when he recollects the time he tried to make Kazunari breakfast in bed and failing horribly.

Kazunari grins sheepishly but shrugs it away. “It makes a good story Shin-chan!”

“So does this mean I can go?” Aomine cuts in.

“Yeah whatever,” Kagami accedes. “You’re more of a nuisance than a help anyway.”

“If these weren’t so damn good I wouldn’t have let you off,” he retorts before taking off with a plate of patties freshly off the grill.

“Hey!” Kagami shouts but lets it go in favour of turning his attention to his two new helpers. “Fine Midorima, you can help out too. I doubt you’d be worse than Aomine anyway.”

“Somehow I do not find that comforting.”

* * *

Before Shintarou pulls his shirt over his head, he turns to face Akashi, who has already removed his hearing aid.

“Akashi,” he calls with a slightly raised voice and signs when the red-head faces him, _“Are you sure it’s okay for me to use the onsen?”_

When Akashi tilts his head in confusion, Shintarou twists his wrist to show Akashi the tattoo.

With a knowing look, Akashi signs back, _“It’s fine, we’re not that strict here.”_

(Though by “we”, he meant himself and not his father.)

Shintarou nods gratefully and proceeds to remove his hearing aid before stripping.

The voices around him are a little muffled but Shintarou doesn’t mind it one bit. He prefers to lean against the stone and admire the exquisite, traditional onsen. It’s outdoors and the heat from the water is perfect to combat the chill. The steaming water is embanked by natural stone and behind Shintarou is the cosy bathing area. They’re surrounded by a line of bamboo that separates the one other onsen for males in the lodge.

Shintarou sinks lower into the soothing water, his calmness mirrored by Akashi beside him. They’re vaguely aware of the banter going on between Aomine and Kise but can’t be bothered to make out the words. The med student simply relaxes and enjoys the way the clean water seeps into his skin, unknotting his muscles and rejuvenating him after a whole morning of activities. He enjoys a few moments of unbothered silence until he senses a presence swimming up to him. Cracking his eyes open, he sees Kise paddling in his direction and straightens.

Kise only has his amber eyes above the water. When he reaches close enough to Shintarou, he emerges from the water swiftly, splashing droplets of water on Shintarou and Akashi.

“Hey Midorimacchi!” he calls unapologetically.

“Yes?” he responds, wiping a stray droplet that landed on his cheek.

“You know,” Kise drawls, eyes glinting with slyness. “You never did tell us how you and Takaocchi got together.”

Shintarou knits his eyebrows together and says, “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Oh I said,” Kise repeats a little louder this time, “You never did tell us how you and Takaocchi got together!”

He catches the hidden-yet-obvious question this time and blushes. It practically came out of nowhere. Kise isn’t going to let him off that easily though. To top it off, the blonde had attracted the attention of the others, who were listening in with interest now.

“So?” he probes. “How did it happen? Who asked who first?”

Shintarou’s frown deepens. “Who asked who…what?”

“Who confessed first!” Kise clarifies excitedly.

All of a sudden, Shintarou wishes that Kazunari was not on the other side of the bamboo, safe from Kise’s wondering questions. He could deal with this so much better than he can.

In his hesitance to answer, Aomine pipes up, “Kinda obvious it’s Takao.”

Embarrassment forgotten, the inaccuracy of Aomine’s answers always compels Shintarou to correct him.

“It’s not.”

“Ehhh…” Murasakibara comments from the far end of the onsen.

Akashi manages a small smirk, a subtle indication of his speculation that it was indeed Shintarou who first made his feelings known.

“Wrong again, Aomine-kun,” Kuroko points out, alluding to the incident where Aomine thought Shintarou would never get a tattoo. Aomine simply clicks his tongue.

“Wait, so you confessed first?!” Kise exclaims and Shintarou wishes he would stop using the word ‘confess’. It makes it sound like they’re still in high school and in the first place, it wasn’t really a confession. He kissed him and that was it.

Semantics aside, Shintarou answers, “I suppose…”

There’s a stall in the conversation when he doesn’t offer anything more and is surrounded by quiet stares. It’s Kise, unsurprisingly, who breaks the silence.

“And???”

“And I got rejected,” Shintarou replies candidly (though ‘rejected’ wasn’t accurate; Kazunari didn’t out rightly say no, he just didn’t give an answer).

If his friends made any sounds of surprise, they were all drowned out by Kise’s very loud “WHAT?!”

“So that day in the library…” Kuroko starts.

“It was after I…made my feelings known,” he says, conveniently missing out the part where he did so by kissing Takao. “I don’t know what he was thinking at that time, but he blurted that he returned my feelings, like it was an epiphany.”

The heat was getting to his cheeks and it has nothing to do with the onsen.

“Aww,” Kise gushes. “It’s like a story pulled out from some manga!”

“You could say the same for yourself Kise-kun,” Kuroko says. “Considering how drawn-out it is with Kasamatsu-san.”

“Hey! Just because everyone here is attached doesn’t mean you can pick on me!” Kise pouts.

“Akashi’s not attached,” Aomine points out.

“Well yeah…” Kise starts, glancing to Akashi who’s curiously wondering what they have to say about this. “But Akashicchi, aren’t you using this trip as an opportunity to confess to Furihata?”

If Akashi didn’t have absolute control over his emotions, he would have demanded, in quite a fluster, how he came to know that. Instead, Akashi opts for a single warning.

“Careful Kise.”

The blonde felt a shiver travel up his spine despite being in hot water. Maybe he shouldn’t have made that guess, especially if it was true.

* * *

Shintarou returns to his and Kazunari’s room after spending a (generally) relaxing time soaking in the onsen (just before his skin gets all shrivelled up in the water). He slides the door open, his question of where Kazunari is answered when he sees the boy inside. Upon a closer look, he realizes Kazunari is sitting on the veranda, nursing a cup of tea.

He’s still in his yukata, having left the neighbouring onsen earlier than he did. Something about the scene, maybe it was his smaller frame wrapped snugly in the yukata, or his slightly damp hair, or the beauty of the spring colours surrounding him, that draws Shintarou in.

Kazunari realizes he’s not alone anymore when he hears light footsteps approaching and feels the gentle touch of fingertips against his hair. Naturally, he leans into the touch, preferring the warmth of Shintarou’s hands to that of the cup of green tea in his hands.

“Was just admiring the scenery,” Kazunari offers. “Just can’t get enough of it.”

Shintarou contemplates it and hums in agreement. He concurs, but only because Kazunari is in the picture.

“Come inside,” Shintarou coaxes. “It’s cold out.”

Kazunari nods and follows Shintarou into the room, closing the sliding door behind them.

“How was your onsen experience?” Kazunari asks, putting his tea away. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but we heard Kise exclaiming.”

“Um, yeah…he gets excited easily.”

Kazunari chuckles and doesn’t ask any further, familiar with the way Kise gets. He kneels in front of their duffel bags, rummaging for a change of clothes. Picking out the set that was at the top of the pile, Kazunari starts to work on his robe. The obi loosens easily with one tug and the yukata starts to slip off his shoulder. He thinks nothing of it and shrugs it off but before his shoulders are completely bare, he feels the ghost of a pair of lips against his exposed neck.

“Shin-chan?” he says, breath hitching when Shintarou presses his lips firmly on his skin. He has his back to his lover, who’s kneeling behind him, face buried in the crook of Kazunari’s neck and fingers resting on his waist. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying what’s mine,” he murmurs.

“Oh?” Kazunari teases, going with the flow. It’s not always that Shintarou initiates their intimate moments after all.

Shintarou doesn’t miss the smirk in his voice. He stops planting kisses and moves up to speak into Kazunari’s ear. “It’s a bit unfair isn’t it? For you to tempt me like that.”

He sucks in a breath before saying, “Who says I was tempting you?”

Shintarou wants to scoff. Kazunari was sitting in seiza mode with his yukata slightly open and sliding off one shoulder, the ends of his hair still damp and sticking to his neck. If that wasn’t tempting, he doesn’t know what is.

And if it really wasn’t, it means Kazunari is either that alluring or he’s just that far gone.

“Doesn’t matter,” Shintarou says and in one swift movement, pulls Kazunari down with him onto the futon.

“Woah!” he yelps, shutting his eyes involuntarily as he waits for the impact with the mattress. It never comes because Shintarou had cradled his head and made sure he landed carefully on the pillow.

When Kazunari opens his eyes, Shintarou was already removing his glasses and putting it away. Kazunari has to swallow the lump in his throat when he meets Shintarou’s eyes. His yukata is hanging loosely off his larger frame and the hard lines of his chest are completely exposed for Kazunari’s eyes to feast upon.

Shintarou lets his eyes travel freely and his hands venture to Kazunari’s waist, fingers toying with the obi before tugging it fully open. He rests his hand on Kazunari’s chest, spreading the robe apart to reveal more of his flushed skin. Shintarou can feel Kazunari’s heart beating rapidly and it makes his swell with pride; he hasn’t even started yet.

He bends down to kiss Kazunari, who lifts his head to meet his lips halfway. Shintarou skims his hands across Kazunari’s chest, fingertips grazing over a nipple. It makes the shorter boy gasp, and Shintarou takes the chance to slide his tongue in, licking into his mouth. At the same time, he busies his hands with removing Kazunari’s yukata completely, pulling off the sleeves one after another and unfolding the robe to reveal his naked body underneath.

Shintarou breaks the kiss to prop himself on his hands. Even without his glasses, he can still admire Kazunari’s body like this, chest rising and falling and skin going pink in the most delightful places. He drops his gaze to Kazunari’s already hard member, fully aware of how his is shown by the tent in his yukata, and meets his glazed eyes. Kazunari is perfect under him, a beautiful mix of hard muscles and soft skin splayed on smooth white robes.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

“So sappy,” Kazunari teases but they both know he appreciates it.

He reaches out and spreads his fingers on Shintarou’s pectorals before smoothing them over his shoulders and pushing his robe off. The sleeves fall off, cloth hanging around Shintarou’s waist, held in place by the obi. Kazunari makes a sound of appreciation in the back of his throat, eyes wondering unabashedly across Shintarou’s athletic body.

“Did you bring the…?” Shintarou asks hoarsely.

The playful glint in Kazunari’s eyes is an answer in itself.

“Of course,” he still says, as if he would forget ever to bring condoms and lube.

Shintarou reaches into Kazunari’s duffel bag and fishes out the items in no time at all. He sets them aside before asking, fully aware that they’d need to help prepare a big spread for dinner soon, “How much time do we have?”

“Enough,” Kazunari replies with a smirk and pulls him down by the nape.

* * *

“What else do we still need to prepare?” Izuki asks.

“We can start on the tamagoyaki which Kagami is supposed to prepare,” Hyuuga answers, counting off enough eggs to cook tamagoyaki for twenty-odd people.

“Where is he anyway? He said he’d be here by five,” Kiyoshi says, looking around Akashi’s spacious and fully-equipped kitchen. But the red-head was nowhere to be found.

“Tch,” Aomine clicks his tongue. “He better not be skiving somewhere,” he grumbles even though he’s been stealing karaage off the plate for the past ten minutes.

Murasakibara takes a break from munching on his chips to whine a little. “Muro-chin…can’t you do it instead?”

“Well I can start preparing first,” he says, wiping his hands on the apron and taking the eggs from Hyuuga.

Not five minutes into the preparation, the chef in question enters the kitchen, though not alone and not in a state anyone expected him to be.

“Are you kidding me,” Aomine is the first to break the silence when he sees not just Kagami’s, but Kuroko’s dishevelled hair and slightly crumpled t-shirts. To everyone’s surprise (and amusement), Kuroko was even sporting a line of bruises on his neck, peeking out from his collar.

Kagami clears his throat nervously and makes a sorry attempt at explaining his tardiness.

“I was doing stuff…” he mutters as he puts on an apron.

In contrast to his blushing face, Kuroko saunters to Mitobe to see if he could be of any help, face calm and collected as if he hadn’t just walked in after a quick roll in the hay.

“Yeah…stuff…” Aomine repeats sarcastically, earning him a disapproving glare from Momoi.

Himuro chuckles and erases the tension in the air with a simple, “Taiga, time to start pulling your weight in the kitchen. You can help me with the tamagoyaki first.”

The kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of piping hot tamagoyaki by the time Himuro and Kagami were almost done with the first batch, which didn’t take very long.

Nobody seemed to notice the absence of two people who were supposed to be here at five as well. The same two people who are currently strolling into the kitchen as surreptitiously as possible. Unfortunately for them though, they do not escape Kuroko’s keen eyes.

“Ah, Midorima-kun, Takao-kun, you’ve finally joined us,” he says, stopping them in their tracks.

“Uh yeah,” Kazunari replies quickly enough, scratching the back of his neck (or trying to hide what seemed like red spots?).

Kuroko brought everyone’s attention to the new latecomers, who arrived in an uncannily similar state of disarray as the two before them. Messy hair…rumpled clothing…telling marks in suggestive places…and they even topped it off with sneaky behaviour.

“Seriously?!” Aomine exclaims, not bothering with masking his scandalized voice, which makes the whole situation more entertaining. “You guys just can’t seem to keep it in your pants, can you?”

Someone snickers but Shintarou is oblivious to who it is because he’s pushing his glasses up in an effort to hide his red face.

“And to think I was so well-behaved,” Aomine laments, glancing to Momoi not so secretively.

“Dai-chan you pervert!” Momoi scolds, then smacks him and stomps off in a huff, clearly embarrassed by her boyfriend’s proposition.

“Ow! Why am I the one getting hit?!”

Shintarou’s glad Aomine has done them a favour by diverting attention away from them. He glances at Kuroko (that little snitch), squinting his eyes when he spots similar marks to Kazunari’s on the column of Kuroko’s neck. Their eyes meet for a brief moment until Kuroko looks away with a smile. Whether Kuroko called them out on purpose or not, Shintarou could only guess.

Most of the food’s been prepared by the hour, thanks to those who had a flair in the kitchen and no thanks to those who had zero cooking skills whatsoever but still insisted on helping, case in point, the girls. It was only when Hyuuga asked with a fearful tone that could only be born from experience, “Where’s Riko?” that they realized that the short-haired girl was with Momoi in the adjoining kitchen. The stop-Riko-from-cooking task force barely managed to hold her back from dumping a whole bottle of vitamins into the pot of curry. Aomine had to approach Momoi carefully and coax her into putting down whatever foul-smelling concoction she was holding.

For some reason, Kazunari found Shintarou with the girls. He wasn’t keen on helping around much in the kitchen because even he had enough self-awareness to know he was a disaster there, but he wouldn’t refuse the girls when they asked him for help (not knowing what he was getting himself into). Fortunately, he didn’t mix weird ingredients, spoil the food or burn anything.

But Kazunari found him slicing carrots for the curry and those are the weirdest-looking carrot slices he’s ever seen in his life. They were of odd shapes and sizes and Kuroko shot him a pitiful look before helping his seniors with getting Riko to put the damn knife down for crying out loud. Kazunari thought Shintarou’s lack of cooking skills and cluelessness in the kitchen was rather adorable though.

Eventually, Riko, Momoi and Shintarou were thrown out of and banned from the kitchens to let the pros do their magic, said pros being Kagami, Himuro and Mitobe.

Shintarou didn’t mind being kicked out of the kitchen (though he’d never admit he was a little butt hurt) but he never would have conceded if he knew Kagami was going to make Kazunari his food-taster like they were playing out some domestic scene from a shoujo manga.

The med student was allowed into the kitchen for a glass of water after playing a couple rounds of shogi with Akashi (who emerged victorious every time) when he spotted Kagami slipping a spoonful of soup between Kazunari’s lips.

He knows they’re not doing it to flirt, but Kuroko is _right there_. Kagami can just use him as his food-taster. Shintarou resists the urge to roll his eyes and strides over to the both of them, grabbing Kuroko by the wrist, who gets dragged along by the suddenness of it. Shintarou stops in front of Kagami and Kazunari, and pushes Kuroko into the red-head’s chest while pulling Kazunari towards him.

“Shin—” Kazunari starts but stops short as Shintarou gives Kagami a good 2-second stare.

He leaves the kitchen with Kazunari in tow and doesn’t hear Kagami say, “What’s wrong with him?”

He also doesn’t hear Kuroko say, “Kagami-kun, you’re lucky you’re good-looking.”

* * *

Dinner is spent eventfully, not surprising for such a rowdy bunch. Things only settle down when Kuroko suggests to have a campfire out in the open, to which most of them agree and Koganei eagerly goes to fetch marshmallows.

Kise _almost_ squeals in delight when Kasamatsu offers to play his guitar. When Kasamatsu starts to sing along to the chords, Kazunari chuckles under his breath as he catches Kise swooning over the rough edge of his senior’s voice. As he sings to the chorus of Namae wo Yobu Yo, Kazunari finds himself in a restful mood, with the fire crackling under the starry sky.

He scans the people gathered around the campfire, eyes resting on Aomine and Momoi, who’s sitting between Aomine’s legs and wrapped snugly in his embrace. It’s a little funny to see even Aomine appreciating the music with a soothing look. When he catches a glimpse of Hyuuga, he notices the hopeful sideways glance he throws at Riko and the nervous drop of his gaze to her hands. Kazunari tears his eyes away, attention resting on Furihata and the way he’s sitting a little too close to Akashi.

Smiling to himself, he sneaks a look to Shintarou and for a moment he forgets he’s on a trip with his university friends because Shintarou looks absolutely charming with the crackling embers lighting his profile. Kazunari sucks in a breath and turns back to Kasamatsu, who was strumming the last few chords of the song. He’s a little thankful Shintarou didn’t notice his tiny moment of captivation and takes pleasure in the way their knees were bumping against each other.

When Kasamatsu finishes the song with the echo of the last chord lost in the cool breeze, he humbly receives his round of applause. Kise jumps out of his seat to ask, “Kasamatsu-senpai! Sing me First Love by Utada Hikaru!”

“No.”

“Plea—”

“Look!” Momoi’s voice interrupts as she pushes herself off Aomine’s chest to point at the sky. “A shooting star! Make a wish guys!”

It didn’t matter that they were all too old to be wishing upon shooting stars. Maybe it was the warmth from the campfire, or the chilly spring air, or each other’s company that made the friends clasp their hands and close their eyes, whispering their wishes as the star flashed across the black sky.

In the split second of its presence, Kazunari wishes he’ll be able to go on that Osaka trip soon.

When he opens his eyes to peep at Shin-chan, he’s already met with green ones staring back at him. It apparently catches Shintarou by surprise, because he quickly looks away and adjusts his glasses out of nervous habit. Kazunari tilts his head in confusion, but Shintarou doesn’t look back at him nor offer any sort of explanation and Kazunari dismisses it.

“Kasamatsu-senpai,” Kise’s voice breaks the silence. “Wanna know what I wished for?”

“No.”

“I wished—”

“Shut up!” Kasamatsu interrupts, not rudely but with a twinge of concern. “Aren’t you not supposed to reveal what you wished for? It won’t come true if you tell.”

Kise’s heart melts right then and there. To think that someone as serious and grouchy as Kasamatsu actually believed in myths like these. Kise knew what he felt for the senior was no longer just a childish infatuation, but this really takes the cake.

“Don’t worry, it’ll still come true even if I say it out loud,” he declares confidently. “Because it has something to do with you and it’s already destined by the stars!”

“How would you know?” Aomine asks.

“Because Geminis and Leos are a perfect match obviously!”

Kasamatsu feels his face burn and he wishes Kise would just keep it to himself. Unfortunately, he already used his wish on something else (coincidentally, it had to do with a certain blonde).

“Is that true Shin-chan?” Kazunari asks, consulting the real astrology expert here.

Surprisingly (though not to Kise), Shintarou nods. Kasamatsu’s heart skips a beat.

Everyone was waiting for Shintarou to bring some enlightenment, so he continues, “Geminis and Leos do indeed make a good match. Their compatibility is based on fun and entertainment and it’s a boisterous, good-natured relationship.”

Kise beams and nods in encouragement, extremely pleased that his statement was being supported. Everyone continues giving Shintarou their full attention, curious to learn how the stars could design their fates.

“They both share similar values, such as intelligence and clarity,” Shintarou says. “Geminis also value freedom, which is something Leos can provide. Leos always value their partner’s inner child, although they may not make it known, and this is exactly what they will find in a Gemini. Because the two signs are ruled by planets in charge of mental and rational behaviour, they meet each other’s needs perfectly.”

Kasamatsu’s blushing to the tips of his ears but luckily for him, the light from the campfire makes it less obvious. He finds it hard to refute what Shintarou was saying and could really see this occurring in a relationship with Kise, if he had the balls to confess that is. To make matters worse, it seems as if everyone was listening intently to Shintarou’s wise words.

To his chagrin, Shintarou continues, “However, Geminis are rather flirtatious by nature, which could spark Leos’ jealousy and cause them to be a little possessive. So that is something they will have to work out, especially since trust does not come easily in the relationship, as opposed to an Aquarius-Leo relationship.”

Kise looks as if he’s about to say something but Aomine interjects, to Kasamatsu’s utmost relief.

“What about Taurus and Virgo?” he asks quite suddenly and Shintarou looks surprised that he would care for something like astrology compatibility. Momoi seems to share the same sentiment.

“Well,” Shintarou starts, sieving through the wealth of astrological knowledge in his brain, “Taurus and Virgo are both earth signs and the relationship is an enduring one. They’re first and foremost good friends, which cements the relationship and makes room for love to blossom.”

At this, Kazunari wonders how Shintarou is able to say this aloud without a modicum of embarrassment when a few sappy words from him are enough to make him blush.

“That’s what happened to us!” Momoi exclaims, bouncing once in Aomine’s arms.

“A good balance exists between the two, as what one lacks can be made whole by the other. Ultimately, a Taurus-Virgo relationship is about the long haul.”

The piece of information makes Momoi grin from ear to ear and even Aomine is pondering over the words, a deliberate expression resting on his sharp features. Shintarou’s sharing sparked a whole range of questions from the rest, which included things like ‘which star sign am I most/least compatible with?’ and ‘what should I do if I want to date a Pisces?’ and ‘does your luck actually increase when you follow Oha Asa?’

Shintarou answers their questions patiently and seriously, although he starts to wonder when he became a love guru once the questions revolved around romance. The sharing session comes to a halt however, when Aomine asks “Wait a minute, would you know anything about sexual compatibility?” to which everyone either groaned or rolled their eyes.

Shintarou clammed up and refused to share so even if he did know anything, nobody was none the wiser. (He did.)

It was well past midnight when the campers finally retired to their own rooms, with the promise of another exciting day ahead on their minds. Shintarou and Kazunari were making their way back when the med student speaks.

“Kazunari, let’s not return to the room yet.”

“Hm?” he tilts his head up. “You got somewhere you want to go?”

A pause, before Shintarou replies, “Yeah. I want to show you something.”

Kazunari is a little confused but curious at the same time. Without hesitation, he says, “Sure, what is it?”

“You’ll know when we get there,” he answers cryptically.

Shintarou leads them out of the lodge and into the cool night, looking around before taking a left. Kazunari finds themselves hiking through the woods and the chill air makes him shrink into his pullover. Shintarou notices and doesn’t say anything when he threads his fingers between Kazunari’s, holding on tightly when he realizes how cold they are.

Kazunari welcomes the sudden warmth seeping through his palm and doesn’t understand why his heart is drumming against his ribcage like this was the first time they touched. They walk in comfortable silence, Kazunari’s curiosity piquing with every step they take.

“Almost there,” Shintarou says after a minute or two.

By this time, Kazunari is beyond excited because what on earth could Shintarou show him out in the open?

It turns out it’s something that is indeed out of this earth for it presented itself in the form of a thousand lights hanging in the black sky above. Shintarou had brought him to a large open space, where the grass covered every expanse and the trees were sparse. Just by tilting his head a little, Kazunari could see stars dotting every inch of the sky, some brighter, some larger, some further. He isn’t aware he’s holding his breath until he meets Shintarou’s green eyes and he sighs in awe, in contentment, in happiness. Whatever it was, he’s never felt anything like this before. Like his heart would burst from the overwhelming emotions, like he could take on the world as long as the person next to him stayed close, like he could meet him in a thousand different ways and each time he would fall in love with him all over again.

“Come.”

When Kazunari takes his hand, Shintarou brings him to the centre of the field. Wordlessly, they spread themselves out on the grass, Kazunari still speechless from awe. He lets himself be enveloped by the softness of the grass and the coolness of the air. When he stares up at the sky like this, it feels as if a blanket of twinkling lights is hanging above him. It’s a magnificent sight to behold.

Kazunari suddenly turns to face Shintarou and asks breathlessly, “How did you—?”

Shintarou didn’t need him to finish the question to know what he was asking. “I checked the Internet and found out that the stars would be out tonight. When I asked Akashi about an open field, he told me about this place.”

“It’s—It’s beautiful,” he says, eloquence escaping him right now.

Shintarou smiles at him; it was the gentlest of smiles and his emerald eyes were soft around the edges. His hair fell over his eyes and his cheek was caressed by the soft grass and god, Kazunari might think the stars were beautiful, but they don’t compare to this. They don’t compare to him.

Without looking away, Kazunari finds Shintarou’s hands and laces their fingers together.

“Thank you,” he whispers and Shintarou squeezes his hand in response.

They laid there in silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence and the splendour of the starry sky. After a few quiet moments, Kazunari asks, “Hey Shin-chan, you’ve been talking so much about other people’s star sign compatibility. What about ours?”

Shintarou mulls over it for a while; not because he didn’t know the answer (he knew it on the tips of his fingers in fact), but because he was trying to find the right words.

“A relationship between a Cancer and a Scorpio…” he starts. “…Is one where both partners are able to connect on an emotional level that is unreachable for other star signs. Once they find that link, they can speak without words, understand each other’s thoughts with one shared glance and be in sync in their approach to life.”

Kazunari has shifted on his stomach now, propping himself up on his elbows to grant Shintarou his full attention. He is enraptured not only by what Shintarou was saying, but also by the way he spills the words to the lights above, like he was reciting what the stars had designed. Kazunari waits patiently for Shintarou to continue.

“Scorpios are probably the best match for Cancers, because they have what it takes to crack a Cancer’s thick shell and understand the torrent of emotions in a Cancer’s soul better than anyone else. Cancers are very emotional and sensitive after all.”

Kazunari nods, remembering the times he had to coax out the emotions that Shintarou keeps to himself and the times Shintarou got offended or flustered over the littlest things.

“What about the other way round?” Kazunari queries. “Are Cancers the ideal match for Scorpios?”

“Yes,” Shintarou says in a breath, and the answer seems to grant him some sort of comfort. “Cancers have strong feelings and are extremely loyal, which fits well with a Scorpio’s passionate and assertive nature, as well as the importance they place on commitment. If a Cancer feels safe, they can be extremely affectionate, devoted and generous.”

There’s a pause before Shintarou adds shyly, “That’s something…I’m working on.”

Feeling safe isn’t the issue, it’s that he knows he’s not exactly the most expressive with his love.

Kazunari understands. He chuckles lightly and says, “Take your time. Tell me more?”

Shintarou takes a while to appreciate the gentle expression on Kazunari’s face and even in the dark, how beautiful he looks.

“Hm…because Cancers keep to themselves, getting them out of their shell is not an easy task, especially when they may retreat into their shell at the smallest mistake. On the other hand, Scorpios are pretty expressive and may even take things a little too far without realizing it. Because of these things, both parties would need to find a middle ground and remind themselves of the differences they share.”

“Mm…I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That said, Cancers and Scorpios want the same things: peace, the joy of a home and commitment.”

“I’d want that with you,” Kazunari says pensively, slightly surprised when Shintarou doesn’t look away or blush. “What else?”

“That’s about all I have,” he replies tentatively.

“Aw come on Shin-chan,” he probes teasingly. “You sure you don’t know anything about sexual compatibility?”

 _Now_ Shintarou blushes.

“Well—”

“Tell me,” Kazunari urges. “Please.”

Shintarou clears his throat needlessly and pushes his glasses up his nose even though it isn’t even falling.

“Scorpio’s passion and Cancer’s sensitivity will take both to ecstasy. Scorpio’s intuition is almost as strong as Cancer’s and they don’t miss any signals, making them an excellent lover. It wouldn’t be just sex, it would be a unique experience.”

“Oh I can attest to that,” Kazunari teases. “So did you already know this or did you research about it after we got together?”

“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”

Kazunari laughs, revelling in Shintarou’s adorably evasive state. He scoots closer to him and the taller boy instinctively wraps an arm around his back.

“That was very entertaining,” Kazunari tells him. “Anything else you’d like to add? Because I’m going to kiss you.”

“Just one,” Shintarou says, tightening his hold. “No matter how you look at it, a Cancer-Scorpio relationship is close to perfect.”

Kazunari flashes him a smile, bright and genuine, and swings a leg over Shintarou to settle himself half-on top of him.

“Then I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, tracing Shintarou’s jawline with his fingers.

“Don’t you want to see the stars?” Shintarou whispers back.

 _“You already hold them in your eyes,”_ he wants to but doesn’t say.

Instead, he breathes out a “later,” and seals their lips. Kazunari presses their mouths together in a soft kiss, moving his lips in tandem with his lover’s. It’s sweet and tender and Kazunari honestly believes he can do this forever.

When they part, neither of them look away. Kazunari looks into Shintarou’s emerald eyes and realizes how softly he was holding his gaze. It was filled with love and adoration and Kazunari’s heart swells. It swells with a hundred new emotions blossoming within him. It swells with the knowledge that this is the moment they have claimed as theirs. It swells with the hope that no matter what happens, they have each other.

Kazunari has never felt so much for someone before.

With a conviction brought about by the onslaught of emotions within him, he says loud and clear for Shintarou to hear, “The stars really aligned for us didn’t they?”

A shudder, before Shintarou says with a small smile, “Yes. They did.”

The End

* * *

The song that Kasamatsu sings, Namae wo Yobu Yo, is the ending song for Bungou Stray Dogs and is sung by Luck Life.

Also, please take the signs compatibility with a pinch of salt. I got some info from various websites but also made up my own. For the MidoTaka one however, I got most of it from [this](http://jaegervega.tumblr.com/post/80413276852/and-finally-midotaka-midorima-and-takao-are) wonderful fanart.

In case you’re wondering, while Shintarou and Kazunari were stargazing, Kasamatsu finally got the balls to ask Kise out, which caused the blonde to be over the moon. At the end of the trip, Akashi did indeed keep to his own promise to get together with Furihata. Furihata said yes, but not before asking him if he was being punked.

And that's all folks! Thanks for reading, commenting, giving kudos and sticking around. I'm glad I was able to finish this and that you people seem to enjoy it. If you like my writing, you can still find me updating my other MidoTaka fic, [As Fate Would Have It](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6422680/chapters/14702644). See you around!


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